


Firebird

by 8hephaestion8



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017), Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF, Call Me By Your Name - All Media Types, Call Me by Your Name - André Aciman, Find Me - André Aciman, Stand By Me (1986)
Genre: Anal Sex, California, Catholicism, Gay, Inspired by Call Me By Your Name, Kissing, M/M, New York, Priests, Priests falling in love, Santa Barbara, Teaching, University, love between men, male sex, male to male sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 01:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 93,752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21170801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/8hephaestion8/pseuds/8hephaestion8
Summary: This is the story of Armie and Timothy who meet at Columbia University, New York and gradually their paths are drawn together in an inevitable way.  Timothy is a philosophy student, who develops an interest in theatre and eventually becomes an actor.  Armie is a young man who decides that he will train to be a priest at an early age. He is a Jesuit so he works in the community and he teaches young people.  Armie sublimates his sexual desire in order to be a priest but of course this is not going to work once he meets and gets to know Timothy.   He has no interest in anyone else, and I need to make this clear, whether child or man and irrespective of gender.Eventually we will come see that they have met their soulmate and that in the early days they have no way of knowing this, though they might have guessed that their meeting and future was somewhat foreshadowed and destined.





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I read a prompt by Rainbowdazzle over on Tumblr and it was about a situation similar to The Thorn Birds where a priest falls in love, and I thought I can do something with that.
> 
> The idea behind the title is that a Firebird is re-born through fire and tribulation, our couple have a few things to work through before they can reach the end of their journey.
> 
> \- In the historical record, the phoenix "could symbolize renewal in general as well as the sun, time, the Empire, metempsychosis, consecration, resurrection, life in the heavenly Paradise, Christ, Mary, virginity, the exceptional man, and certain aspects of Christian life". - Wiki

**We live in the best of all possible worlds - Liebnitz**

Timmy was trying to write just within the confines of a brick. The brick was on the inside of the outer wall of old and celebrated college. It wasn't a dare, he had had a deep conversation with his Greek tutor about the value of being able to translate and understand Greek philosophers and come away with the conclusion that his tutor was talking shit. He had read several and they were all straightforward, he didn't see how he could improve on what had been already transcribed and translated. He thought his best role was to spread the word, get it out there to young people like him, people who perhaps had not come across the best philosophy, the great truths and the best writers, which was easy. All he had to do was publish and where was the best place? The place with the best audience, a ready audience...his campus, full of young people like him, receptive and interesting. An audience waiting to learn and wanting to please. He just needed to work out where on campus and when. By 1.40am he was on site and nearly finished. 

He had worn his Id card to get onto campus, swiping to get onto the campus at eight o'clock before the library closed. He didn't need to swipe out so he sat around looking aimless and waited for his appointed moment. A moment determined by the closing of facilities and the end of the first circuit of security staff. The library began its closing process, the security staff began their walk around, finally at eleven the last students were ushered out and Timmy left the office of his Greek tutor who never locked his office. He looked out and around and left the room , making his way down the corridor exiting a small door out to the back. The corridors with external doors were checked as staff walked around the building, no point locking rooms then having to return to lock outer doors some of which were on CCTV and an alarm, this one was just on an alarm. He had carried out his research on how the building was locked down and knew he had a short window of time between the library closing and the final lock down to get outside where he wanted to be

He was going to write a quote on a brick underneath a window at the back of his teaching block. He knew that if he was caught he was likely to be suspended. He gave no thought to consequences, he wasn't writing crap. He was teaching his fellow students about the value of Philosophy. 

His confidence came from being from a home full of love. He was taught love conquers all, manners will take you anywhere and kindness an ultimate goal. His background was privileged, and he was made aware of it. Superiority was not tolerated neither rudeness. He learnt very quickly that the best way of getting his own way was to talk nicely and be kind. His mother also taught him to explain and justify his actions, from this came his first love, to debate and clarify, perfect skills for studying philosophy. His mother ran her own business representing actors and his father worked for a charitable organisation which supported the socially deprived in less developed countries. He knew he was privileged, he was told and he saw the discrepancy between how he was treated and how others who were in his friendship circle were treated.

He had gone straight into a private school at 7, and recognised almost immediately that he had to fight to fit in, he was not like other children, they spoke as children he spoke as an adult. From day one he had to do confine himself, bring himself down to their level it was tough to get his view put across and he learnt very early on that his weapon of choice was going to be words except his vocabulary had to stripped right down. His currency was simplified words, he had to work out in his head what he wanted to say and make sure what came out of his mouth fit his audience, it proved to be a useful skill. He was not disliked, he could manage the bullies, his soft husky voice could convince them they could get nothing from him that they did not already have, he just was not a normal child. 

Physically he was attractive, with dark hair, soft pale skin and eyes which were both innocent and intoxicating. On his cheek a pink bloom which emerged at the same time that he started going to school. It was useful. Teachers would pardon him when he looked under his dark green eyes at them. The eyes that up close were a mixture of blue, grey, brown, a tawny colour which effected gold. His eyes would change colour, green at a distance, brown when stressed and that tawny brown in lust. Except when he was young they shone a clear gold, a gold that bewitched, a gold that persuaded people to look the other way and to stay entranced. And he knew the effect he had on people. A crooked smile, a hint of snaggle teeth, the cheeks, a rosy bloom, curling dark brown hair that also hinted at many colours like the eyes showing different shades of brown depending on mood and stance. He walked around in a created and protected glow. He knew how to bend the other person into taking his view and he learnt very quickly how to protect himself from predators and people who wanted to punish him. He held this in mind as he drew the golden ink across the brick. If caught he had already worked out a strategy for convincing his prosecutor he was justified in his action.

He used a favourite quote: 'We live in the best of all possible worlds'

To him it was simple: What we have now is best and all that there is to experience, and if it is not good for you, in general and in principle, the best for you is out there. Go search. Much if not everything is possible. 

He looked at the letterwork, he'd need to do some work. It wasn't bad but could be improved. He'd best go and have a look at his calligraphy books, he had a couple because at some point he'd thought it might be a way to make some money, that is making his own cards and selling them but there wasn't any money in it, he satisfied himself that at least he had gained a new skill. He looked for extra income as he couldn't rely on his parents for money, they earned more than average but they were not rich, they had had to make sacrifices to send him and his sister to school. At least the pressure on his parents had reduced, his sister was a couple years older, she had finished school and was making a living writing, earning sufficiently to live in Paris. She had moved there rather than try to compete in the very competitive market of New York. It helped that half the family was French and based in France, his father was born in France and still spend time there. Her French was excellent, his was barely conversational, he could read it somewhat but it improved only when he was forced into speaking it. Luckily it came back to him quite quickly and was easily understood by native Frenchmen.

His work for the night was done. He found a way out through one of the gardens. He was smiling happy to have achieved what he wanted. Only waiting now for a reaction.

Armie had taken Spanish in school and college as part of his degree, majoring in the Liberal Arts reflective and internally focussed unlike the menfolk of his family who were generally boisterous and extravert. His brother and Father were over six foot, liked and played sports, ate what they wanted, drank sparingly and had as much sex as it was possible to have without ruining themselves or their reputation, basically put their energies to living life to the full. Nothing was out of range. If it promised fun and they could join in they were there. Their kinfolk was more thoughtful, Armie took after his mother. He was quiet not mousy or needy but felt everything including things that happened to other people, a sympathetic and empathetic person who always tried to put the other at their ease. When young his brother would tease him mercilessly, just to see if he could wind him into fury. He had much success, resulting in both of them being grounded because although temperate in nature, Armie had a temper and passion and a desire to see justice being effected. His brother was able to press directly on his buttons and push them so that Armie had no control over his reaction. He was also a big guy, he took care not to use it to his advantage, he was well aware that he could use his physicality to the bad. He knew he could draw people to him with it and that potential lovers were drawn to it. He felt he had to take care of it, he was no different to boys of similar age, sometimes his body raged against him, demanding he pay attention to its desires. He learnt to control it, to, in a manner of speaking, put it to one side. He took to working out to manage his desires, the curves of his muscles and the shape of his body brought him unwanted attention. If pursued he would gently but firmly ward off the person taking interest. It did not bother him if the attention came from male or female. Later he took up boxing as a discipline to both mind and body. In his own way he was just as engaged as the other men in his family, he choose to participate in games which required strategy and self control, games which taught him how to manage himself and live singly in a world full of temptation.

The family were Catholic, his mother and father regularly attending church and bringing the children up in faith, confirming them and sending them to Catholic schools and religioous based colleges. However at fifteen they were told that they had a choice of whether or not to continue with church. Vic stopped going, Armie continued. Vic started with girls at soon after, at twenty-one after college, Armie went to study for life in a religious order. 

The teasing meant nothing, Armie knew that Vic loved him as himself, they were one. Thick as thieves nobody could get between them. Vic was the first person he spoke to if he had a question or an idea he wanted to discuss, he took his advice, as a worldly man about town, he knew that Vic would give him both sides of an argument and the freedom to choose a side without feeling that he had chosen wrongly, between them they were able to help each other. They were each others’ confidante, Vic had other friends he could talk to but he trusted Armie and knew that he would always have him at the centre of his heart, and wanted the best for him, they got each other. Dissimilar but the same, straightforward, honest and able to see the best in the person in front of them. But equally difficult to cross, upset one and the other was by his side in an instant. People learnt not to fuck with the Hammer brothers, some were stupid enough to try. A jock in high school thought he could match Vic's popularity. Eventually he tried to get him in a fight, Vic was six foot Armie was six four, the jock was equal to Armie, when Armie realised what was happening he came and stood behind his brother.

‘You knock him down there's one more to follow and it won't be me. Motherfucker.’

The jock laughed, he thought Armie was incapable of defending himself, because he did not speak very much and was normally to be found in seclusion, alone in the refectory, he played no sport and he sat in corners and read. The jock had nowhere to go and didn't want to back down, when Armie offered his hand, he took it as a joke. He should have realised how things were going to go when a crowd gathered and stood well back, Armie had appeared from nowhere when he had gone up to his brother and started working his stupid mouth.

‘Let it go, we won't trouble you if you leave us alone. Come on man, let it go…we can be friends…’

‘Yeah I know what kind of friend you want to be.’

The jock swung, and landed on his ass, Armie had belted him one and walked off.

‘Come on Vic, leave that fucker, he ain’t getting up.’

He was grounded for two weeks and suspended for the same amount of time. He gave no fucks and came into school to talk to his teachers and get his books, he just didn’t attend the classes. The teachers liked him, and didn’t pay him any mind. He would help those who were less able or poorer or weaker than him, he wouldn’t just defend his brother or their friends, bullies learnt to stay away from him and those seeking succour would sit at his table, he would put a friendly eye on them and carry on reading his book. You knew you were in his bad books when he lifted his head and rolled one eye then the other to look at you, then you knew you were fucked. Even his brother knew when to stand off.

So it was a shock when Armie said he wanted to join the ministry. In fact his mother outright said to him: ‘What ministry?’

She didn’t quite get the look. He was very steady when he said:

‘I want to look into becoming a priest and if not a priest then a monk – I want to work in the world. Help other people who are looking for support, love and guidance. I can do that. I do it already and I feel very strongly about helping others.’

His mother turned thoughtful. Armie had never shown much interest in women, or indeed men. He helped her around the house, his size no harm to his grace, he was tall but held his posture, he wasn’t clumsy and he wasn’t fussed about helping with the cleaning or washing, he did his fair share, they didn’t need help, between Armie and his mother the housework got done. And he could cook, he prepared meals and was not above shopping for the week, if his mother or father paid.

He came with her to church, his dad Michael would come but not so often now the boys were men, she could rely on him to drive her wherever she needed to go. He would drive old ladies to church if they needed a ride, and he would collect groceries for those who needed it. His weekends were spent in good works, he not only helped with church things and people on Sunday, on Saturday he ran a session at the local gym, free of charge for those who couldn’t afford it and subsidised for those who could demonstrate that they lived in public housing. The gym subsidised it and he raised the rest through a mixture of table sales, running errands for people, and basically begging people he knew for money. The people who came were mainly Hispanic in culture, he put his knowledge of the language to good use.

‘Before you make a decision, take a year out, see what is out there first. You can look after yourself, go and take six months working in Mexico or Peru, those are relatively safe places where you can get involved in supported disadvantaged people. You could work with the natives rather than you know…’ Here voice tapered off. She had seen that look in his eye before. Her boy had made up his mind.

‘I’ll do that when I have completed training. That is why I am uncertain about whether to train as a priest or live in the world in service to the church.’

She couldn’t help it, she started crying. Michael took over.

‘Armie are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

‘Look, I think we should discuss it. Please don’t say you have made up your mind, at least grant me a conversation about this. This is serious, we didn’t suspect that you felt so strongly. Talk to us, we’ll listen.’

‘You won’t listen, you will be trying to persuade me to stay at home. Let me go and find out what is required, and then we can talk.’

‘With feeling goes wanting, it is a dangerous connection - this profession may not be for you.’

Armie chose to speak with his local priest, Father Peter. Father Peter was forty-five, he had spent time work as Benedictine monk and the last ten years as a priest at Armie’s church, he was the perfect person to discuss this with, he’d seen both types of ministry as well as working as an administrator in the region’s hierarchy.

He asked Armie directly if he ever thought about having sex, with either men or women. Armie had to be honest.

‘I can’t deny it, I get urges Father, not to carry them out but my body functions properly. I don’t get turned on by men or women…well not often…in the morning sometimes is difficult…the body has it’s own desires sometimes it is not even a mental thing…I don’t know how to put this…’

‘I understand Armie, it is something that we all have to deal with and anyone who says otherwise is not suitable to enter the ministry. I deal with it with prayer, meditation and exercise. I just engage myself in hard work or take myself out somewhere where it is just not possible to carry on being concerned with the body. Others have other methods. I find distraction best for me. After a while it becomes easier to deal with but it doesn’t go away, you are a man, your body will call out to you but it must not rule you.’

‘I think I can deal with that. What I want to know is what is it really like to manage a parish? What is the life?’

‘It isn’t straightforward Armie, you are on call day and night. You have routine, services, civic duties, duties to the parishioners, duties to the diocese perhaps even some work; certainly you need to be able to go out in the community to help those who cannot get to a building, and you must love to be with people Armie, if you cannot enjoy being with people even in the greatest time of distress, this is not the life for you, whether you work in a church or in the community.’

‘Can I shadow you for a month?’

‘Of course, I can’t do every day but certainly can find time a couple of times a week, I can give you a flavour of the work, speak with Sister Clare, she manages my diary – I trust her, she will get you a good selection of experiences. You can liaise with her, now if you don’t mind, I have another appointment.’ He stood up and extended his hand and at the same time turned Armie around and walked him to a door without saying another word.

‘Goodbye, I’ll see you shortly – take that door please, my visitor will be coming through the front. Thanks.’

He’d turned serious and in turn stood off from Armie, making the meeting less about Armie or what he needed, making it clear it was a job and a vocation, not something that could be jumped in and out of.

‘Thanks Father Peter.’

Armie turned quiet in turn. This was indeed serious. The priest had shown him in several minutes how to show empathy and how to disengage. It was thought provoking, Father Peter had done it for a reason, he wasn’t playing.

For his next go see, Armie called a Jesuit run sanctuary for refugees, it was based in San Francisco – he went there because he also wanted to see the University which was a designated Jesuit college. He asked Vic to come with him. They would stay for four days, they lived in Santa Barbara it was a change, if the trip’s purpose went awry they would at least have had a break from their normal routine. Vic was resigned, he would spend four nights away from his girl but his brother needed him, and family, especially Armie came first. He put aside his initial resentment and fell into planning their days and nights, he would not allow Armie to sit in the hotel every night. They would go out for a few drinks and at least one club – he didn’t go into detail, but he made it clear, they would have some fun as well as a purpose. If he could he would get Armie laid before he went into any seminary, that was his mission.

Armie was built, tall, blue eyed, dark blonde and pleasant mannered, women fell over him and he mostly ignored them, the European side of the family visited his face – he looked like someone from North Europe, not quite Scandinavian, nor Eastern European. The face was open and attractive. Vic looked like a throwback to their Russian Jewish forefathers, he resembled his grandfather, Armie resembled their mother, their father was nowhere in them physically and all over them in personality and manner. Armie’s quietness was offset by his father’s impulsive and determined nature, the temper directly his father’s, passion and desire was evident in his father. The characteristics had turned out differently in them, but were equally evident as a family trait. Vic was sunny in nature, all for fun and for love, Armie was like cloud in the sky, stormy when the sun went in, a very bright spark when the sun shone out. Both were all energy. Get them in a group and the family resemblance was marked, separate them and it wasn’t clear what the relationship was.

Vic didn’t understand, the offers were blatant and Armie just brushed them off. Before they went on the trip, he got Armie on his own, the parents had gone out, it was a good opportunity.

‘Armie, so don’t you ever want to fuck someone?’

Armie looked blandly at him, thought about answering one way, decided to be truthful.

‘To be honest, I don’t, well rarely feel like that.’

‘What the fuck man, there’s girls dying for you to ask them out.’

‘Yeah, I know – not interested.’

‘So what does it for you?’

Now Armie turned anxious, he thought if he started to describe it or form it into a coherent structure it would come back to haunt him. If he didn’t form a picture, the desire didn’t arise, the one time he had had a crush the feelings were so overwhelming that he thought, fuck that, it was too difficult, having something material had caused him no end of difficulty. He had been forced into taking an exercise class every day for a week as well as his normal gym and boxing sessions, he wore himself out, that was the only way he could manage. He thought no-one had noticed. He was wrong.

‘Don’t think about lying to me Armie…I seen what attracts you and I know how you dealt with it. What are you going to do if you go into the priesthood and see someone like him in the course of your training or work?’

Armie remained silent.

‘Come on Armie, I don’t give a fuck – you can like who you like. You’re my brother man, I love you. Whatever you decide is OK by me.’

‘OK OK…there was that one time…I’m not lying when I say it shouldn’t be a problem, that issue I had was very specific. I never had that again.’

‘What are you going to do Armie? Have you made up your mind that you can do without sex?

‘Yes. Now let’s talk about the trip. You know I value your help and advice, drop it, I can deal with it – come on.’

Vic let it drop, there was still time.


	2. Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> College life continues for Timmy, his friend Will has some words for him and his interest and skills in theatre start to bring this area of his life to the fore. Life is good.
> 
> Armie has made a firm decision and takes the steps onto becoming a Jesuit priest, he too studies at college, he is required to not only have a first degree but to study subjects which which lead directly to enable him to qualify as a priest. On top of that as a Jesuit, his life has to be dedicated to learning or teaching. He has a number of options and he is starting a journey.
> 
> The paths they have taken will cross and this is how this happens.
> 
> This is FICTION.

**We are what we repeatedly do. Excellence then, is not an act, but a habit **

\- Aristotle

The next day Timmy stealthily went to see his handiwork, it was still there. Because of its position it was unlikely that somebody would see it straight away. He thought to himself: 'I might have to place the next one where it can be more easily seen.'

‘Hey Timmy, what's up?'

Timmy was mildly startled, straightened himself and turned round placing himself between the quote and Will his best friend.

'Aren't you due in class…we can go in together…what are you doing out here?

'Could ask you the same, man?'

'I just came through Cambridge'

It was the name of the garden and the gate into the campus.

'Same.'

Will looked at him.

'Liar. What are you up to?'

'Nothing. Come on we are going to be late. '

He linked arms with Will and pulled him back into the building, they were indeed going to be late.

'So, how was the date?'

  1. She was...pleasant.'

Pleasant was not good.

'What happened? Could you talk with her?'

'Like I said she was pleasant, she put out and I sent her home, it was nothing more.'

Will did not waste time, he communicated well, he would spend money on a date but if he thought it wasn't going to go anywhere he would take what was offered, and send the girl on her way. He had a bit of a reputation if Timmy was honest. But if you knew him, you knew what to expect and he was a reliable friend male or female, he would look out for his friends and he would listen and be supportive. He did not allow you to do shit, happy to call you out if you did, or considered doing crap. He just had this one thing that was both honest and annoying.

'Anyway I'll tell you more later.' 

They entered the classroom door. 

'Good Morning gentlemen, we were waiting for you - Class can you turn to the Socratic theory we were discussing yesterday. Timothy you started a discourse on this, can you elaborate please. '

Timmy didn't need the paper, the Greek Philosophers were his favourite subject. He started with a quote:

'True knowledge exists in knowing that you know nothing.'

He set off knowing that he should not piss off his classmates, modesty was a thing, paused and then he launched into his theory. The class was enthralled, his tutor sat smiling, his class was being taught for him. At the end of the class when all were milling out of the room he pulled Timmy to one side. 

'What are you going to do after you have finished college Timmy, you show an excellent grasp of this subject? I think you should teach. You have a real skill in putting across theories and ideas.'

'I don't know...I like studying but I really am not sure. I think everything that is to be known is known already. If I want to teach at college level I have to research...not sure I want to do that, or am even cut out for that. I don't know...'

'Well, if you come to a firm decision, come and talk to me.'

As he walked out of the room and onto the corridor the thought of what he was going to do stuck with him. He really did not know, his grandmother was an actress, his mother danced but gave up after having children, someone needed to be home. His father's family were all civil or public servants of some description or another, they were noted for their work with the disadvantaged. And his sister was writing, what to do? He couldn't say he was one thing or another. The ambition to do something public seemed to have escaped him. Every one in his family was serving one audience of another. Then he caught sight of Will and the need to decide went away,

They had a break then another class, lunch and then the afternoon was dedicated to the College drama group. Timmy had auditioned and found himself in a key role, not the lead, but a good supporting role. He'd done some school plays but it was at least five years since he had appeared on stage, the last thing he had done was a musical, Oliver, he had played one of the urchins, had a line or two and a verse in a song. Hadn't particularly enjoyed it, it was too much in front. This time he had deliberately chosen a role which required engagement and he was enjoying it tremendously. It was a play called Proof and he was playing the young lover, playing straight was interesting and uncomfortable until he decided that love is love is love then it all came right. The girl playing opposite him was good, and professional, when embraced on stage she was able to do this wholeheartedly and step away the moment it was needed. He took comfort in being able to be normal on stage, in fact he was finding it more and more to be something that had meaning for him.

Will was stage manager, he found that more fun than being on stage. He knew he was headed for some kind of life in either theatre or film, but behind the scenes. They would discuss theatre and plays, Will was able to broaden his knowledge and taught him a lot. Will was just interested in the technical, Timmy wanted to understand the historical background of theatre, to be able to put everything in context. And Will liked the camaraderie of the back stage crew, knowing what goes behind the scenes to help the actors perform. And there was Paul, Timmy found Paul dreamy, he was crew, he helped build the set and he operated the lights and he was solid, six foot to Timmy’s five ten small frame, with a big chest, an ass and strong arms. They would scoot behind the structure and kiss, Paul would press him into the wall, Timmy would jiggle his body against his and both would come out pink, teased mercilessly by both cast and crew. Paul was just nice, pleasant and straightforward, they took it for what it was, they were both young who knows where they might end up, it was working for now. Paul was studying engineering and maths, his brain different from Timmy’s, that was the joy, he was completely practical, full of common sense, and grounding. Timmy felt he was lucky, and, also knew that he could not tell Paul what he had been up to, he would tell him to stop, and he wasn’t going to. That was what was fun, Timmy was naughty, and Paul tolerated his behaviour, smiling and indulgent of his boy’s open disobedience. It played well in other arenas of their love life. However, he did not hold with vandalism and that is what Timmy was really doing, no, he couldn’t tell him, that might be one step too far. He was all ends up just right for where he was now, the difference in their attitudes and perspectives was key. Will did not like Paul, at least he did not like him with Timmy, not because he was bad for Timmy but because he was so ‘straight’, so practical, useful as crew boring as a friend and lover, he thought Timmy could do better and often tried to point him in the right direction as far as he was concerned, offering blind dates, separate invites to bars and parties, and pointing out good looking men on the campus. Timmy ignored him, and took it all in stride.

The next piece of Timmy’s ‘art’ was done in broad daylight, there was a corner of the same garden that was sheltered by high hedges. He was taking more of a risk, because this wasn’t on the main building but on the back of bench near a summer house, he was quick, and used the phrase he had used in class. It was bold and reckless. He had his gold paint and a fine brush deep in his bag and the muse had taken him, he went out after the rehearsal on a high, it had gone well, he wanted a way of letting off steam instead of dragging Paul to bed, he wanted something different a different kind of excitement, Paul was just so perfect for not giving him trouble, easy to get on with but he needed something else, a thrill. After rehearsal he was a bit crazed, not really concentrating and not seeing that he had dropped a favourite pen under the bench when he had pulled out the paint and brush, a pen he used in class noted because it was a vintage fuchsia enamelled fountain pen and easily connected to him.

The guys cutting the grass came across it, recognising that it was expensive and would be missed, they handed it in. The graffiti wasn’t connected with the pen. The men reported the graffiti but it was left, it was in a nice hand and it was nice words, whoever had done it was naughty, it could be let go once, it was behind the bench not easily seen. When Timmy realised he had lost his pen, he knew where he had lost it and sent his friend Sally to fetch it for him, but the administrator was not fooled.

‘Tell Timothy that he signed his fee waiver with that pen, and if he wants it back he needs to collect it himself.’

‘Shit. Sorry Sally, I’ll go myself tomorrow after class.’

‘Timothy, I hope you had nothing to do with that bench.’

Timmy turned his pretty eyes on the administrator, she was young and soft on him, hoping that she could convert him.

‘As if. I was sitting there making notes for my class, I must have mistakenly dropped it when I put the notebook back in my bag, thanks for holding it for me.’

‘How did you know what I was talking about?’

Timmy stood stock still, that was his first mistake. He tried turning on the charm, looking at her intensely with pretend interest, except it did not quite reach his eyes, she smiled slyly, she thought she had an in.

‘Want to go for a coffee?’

‘I have class, another time Sherrie.’

‘I’m good at keeping secrets, I think we could have a few…don’t you Timothy…?’

The fuck, now he had stay away from the admin. office, she was going to cause him trouble. He went looking for Will he had to tell him, ask for advice, shit he might be in trouble, if it hadn’t been for her, he would have done one more, he had just the spot, fuck, then he thought, perhaps if I fuck her she might keep quiet. No, that was a bad idea, he’d just have to lay low for a little while, he might still get a chance. He had the perfect quote and the perfect position on the side of the building where everyone walked but nobody looked, he could use a very fine brush and make the writing small, he started to talk himself into writing his third phrase and he knew just what it should be. Sherrie was gone from his mind, the thrill superceding all other thought.

Armie was bored, Vic was talking to a girl, he wasn’t flirting, he’d made it clear from the start that he might fuck her but he had someone at home who he was definitely going to back to.

‘I don’t understand you.’

The girl had gone to the bathroom.

‘I won’t fuck her. We are only chatting.’

‘You are more than chatting, you are leading her on, she thinks you are going to sleep with her.’

‘Hey Boss, spot any nice guys around this place, you should make the most, no-one here to tell, except me…’

Armie took a drink, he’d had several and wanted to go back to their Air BnB apartment.

‘I’m going back.’

‘Don’t leave me.’

Armie looked at him.

‘You aren’t even talking to me. And you can’t leave her hanging, her friends have gone, you have to make sure she gets home safe or go with her. I don’t care either way. I can look after myself, and it is getting late.’

It was getting late, nearly midnight, and tomorrow afternoon he had his meeting with the Jesuit group running the refuge, Vic would just have to take his chance with the girl, he didn’t even know her name, Vic knew it or he hoped he did.

‘I’ll see you later.’

Vic never returned. He didn’t mind or care. He got a good night’s rest and woke at eight refreshed, he got up, washed and dressed, had his normal morning routine of prayers and meditation during which there were things he read, and went down to the coffee shop just round the corner, a proper mom and pop coffee shop, they took pity on him because he was nice and by himself and quiet. He texted Vic to tell him where he was, half an hour later Vic turned up looking sheepish.

‘Don’t say anything.’

‘Bro. I could give less than a shit. You know what’s right and what’s wrong, not my job to question what you do in these matters. I can keep my mouth shut but my face might say something. What are you going to have?’

They got on with their morning, they had shopping to do, in different directions and for different purpose and decided to split and meet up for lunch, Vic would join Armie on his visit to support him and then they were just going hang out, no more late night drinking. The next day Armie had his visit to the University of San Francisco and again Vic would come with him, this time for a second opinion. Their parents trusted their judgement, Vic had a year on Armie and a bucket load of savvy.

The trip to the Jesuits was eye-opening and if the Seminary was going to compete then it had a hard job. Armie liked the idea of working with people who needed him. The Jesuit priest put this out of his mind, Your job is not to think about who needs you it is to serve Christ and to do what is best for the community. It is not about you. Come let me show you what we do.

The refuge was a place of safety for people arriving in the states. The families were allocated a priest who worked with them to get their new life set up. Dealing with officialdom, schools and making sure they could access good healthcare, all the things that are difficult if English is not spoken by your family. Armie was shown around and had to sit for an hour hearing about the work of the centre. He just wanted to get on with seeing how it actually operated. 

Armie was introduced to a family who had escaped from the Columbian drug gangs after first bolted from the political problems in Venezuela, he was naturally drawn to the son who was the main reason the family had sought asylum in the US. They had come through the proper channels and were housed in public housing which was an hour journey from his school, which meant plenty of opportunity for getting into trouble. Once introduced Armie sat beside him and started finding out about the family, speaking his best Spanish, he wasn’t as fluent as he thought he was, Spanish for exams is different to the colloquial but they got along very well. After half an hour the priest called the meeting to a close. He pressed a hand on Armie's shoulder and praised him for the way he had dealt with the boy.

'Come back, we need people like you. You were able to talk to him without judgement, it is something to be proud of, a great skill and something we can work with'

He gave Armie his personal details and asked him to keep in touch. Armie was so pleased, he felt like he had communicated and was glad that what he had felt inside had come across. Vic was waiting for him outside. He smiled happily at him, glad to see him and wanting to tell him about the meeting and especially about Johan. 

‘Want to go for a coffee? I want to hear all about it,’

Armie nodded and they set off for the Costa which was 50 yards down the street.

'You know Vic I don't like to criticise, but I thought you liked Susie? What are you going to say when you get back?'

'Say! Are you mad? She would dump my ass! I am saying nothing, and neither should you Motherfucker'

'I am not saying…if you want to do that kind of thing again you need to tell me so that I can leave you to your own devices. When I go into the Seminary, I can't be seen to be condoning such behaviour.'

'Never bothered you before.'

'i thought about it, I am not judging but I can't be around when you cheat on your girlfriend. I thought you were serious about her.'

'I am, but the dick got away from me.'

‘Well you better learn how to control it otherwise the dick will cost you a lot of money in the future.'

As this was settled in his mind Armie started to tell Vic how he had got on with the Jesuits.

'Wait. Does this mean no more confidential chats?'

Armie sat for a moment.

‘I hope not I still need you. I still need someone objective to test out my ideas, I know I am not going to be perfect. There will be times when I have to confess things that I don't want to confess. Look, I have Spirit to guide spiritual but a human is just as valuable, I need you for my earthly worries and I still have time and want to hear about everything, and I mean everything in your life. I just don't want to be involved in your fuckery Vic. Is that OK?'

It was and it wasn’t, they both knew things had to change. They still had each other’s backs but a line had been draw. The free wheeling days were over. Armie was twenty one, he could take a year off like his Mom wanted or he could register and start preparing for the priesthood. Vic thought he should wait, have some sort of life and then decide, they had had discussions before they came to San Francisco.

‘Armie? What do you want from life? I can’t see how living that life is gonna give you everything you want.’

What Vic meant was that the taste of the apple was very sweet, and Armie had had a bite and it had gone down whole, he didn’t know how to chew.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, have you ever thought about having a family? We talked about this, didn’t we, what I mean is don’t you think you would miss…’

Armie jumped in.

‘I know what I am giving up…I don’t mean giving up…relinquishing…ermm…let’s not discuss this, I’ve spoken about this with Father Peter, he understands…I can’t quite put it into words…’

‘Hmmm…OK…let’s get an early dinner. Where do you want to go?’

Armie found a way of managing, he joined the San Francisco group of Jesuits and undertook his Novitiate in San Franciso, he completed this successfully and enjoyed the all round knowledge, comraderies and skills he picked with this group of men. He truly felt the fellowship, then he was due to study theology and philosophy in depth and wondered if he might look to new climes. He spoke with his parents and his brother and they gave him their blessing to move, but he decided to stay where he was, the better to have the stability of absolutely committing to the vows of poverty, chastity and obedience. He knew this would be hard not because he had not been following these tenets but because now it was real and he had to commit mind, body and soul – before he felt that he had the flexibility to leave, now there was no option, he was committing to the life. It was a big deal. He entered The University to study theology and philosophy which core curriculum at the college and for the life of a Jesuit priest

Then it was time for a change. He had kept up his Spanish and together with additional studies in Latin and Greek, he applied and was successful in getting an Instructor post at Columbia teaching Greek and Roman philosophy. The first year was hard, some of the students knew more than he did, by the end of the first year he had a grasp of what was required and he put in the hours, he could match any of the first and second years, now he just had to consolidate his knowledge. He was junior so he was stuck with the first and second years, and teaching the basic boring elements but he sat in on a few of the final year classes to pick up points, and that was where he met Timmy. 

He was twenty-seven, Timmy was Twenty. It was time, their worlds had aligned.

New York was a lot. California was all laid back, everything is OK and easy, New York was all hurry up, speak fast and rush – nobody had any time, everything and everyone was intense. Armie settledinto New York, the next year was one where he could rest a little, he thought he understood what he was about and that meant he felt freer than he had in the last five years, in his head that meant fun, yeah he was going to have some fun.


	3. Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timmy literally runs into Armie, the meeting doesn't go quite as both would wish.

**I can control my passions and emotions if I can understand their nature - Spinoza**

Timmy waited behind the last class, he let the others stream past him. Will included, promised to call later on. If he did the same as he did the first time he would get away with his last quote. He went to the library with James, they were working on a project together, the hand in date was a couple of weeks later, they had to produce a presentation comparing Seneca to Aristotle primarily the difference that language made to translating themes on desire and the best forms or ways of living life. It was taxing. His brain hurt most of the time. James was keen and had a greater intellectual capacity than Timmy, he was able to take in the differences between the philosophers, differences between stoic thought and ethics, put it into a timeframe and context for the times both philosophers were living in. James was drawing up a chart with arrows and words, the words were representative of the theory. Timmy tried to hang on, it hadn’t helped that he had not read the paper that James had sent him. He spent the time he should have been reading in bed with Paul, it was more enjoyable, which supplemented by another session in bed this morning, meant his brain could not engage, it was still placed in his dick, but he was regretting it now. He gathered himself and thought only one more hour of this.

‘Hey, are you OK with this, we could meet tomorrow, you seem a little out of it today.’

‘I didn’t sleep very much last night.’

James caught his eye and winked.

‘I thought so…’

‘Insolent shit…shall we get a coffee…the brain might get back in gear…’

‘Your brain is still in your trousers. We’ll get a coffee and see how we go. I could go over the theories again if that would help.’

James was kind, and they both liked and respected each other, some of the things Timmy could do or learn, James couldn’t, and likewise. That was why they had been put together, James was excellent on Seneca, Timmy was excellent on Aristotle, they should probably have worked on the timelines and ideas separately and brought them together when they each had a clear outline. Instead of working out what the structure of research needed should be, they had both jumped straight in. Timmy’s brain must have been clearing to realise that.

They had a few coffees and managed to get back on track, agreeing on the template and a way forward. It got to eight o’clock:

‘Do you want to get something to eat?’

‘No…I mean I have something else I have to look at tonight, why don’t you go off and I’ll catch you tomorrow. I’ll be here for a little while longer. Thanks for helping to sort out the project, I was a little lost, I must admit.’

‘That’s alright, don’t stay too long…and get something to eat.’

Timmy did, the refectory was open. The meals might be a bit dry or overdone but he could get a salad or something, a sandwich perhaps. He was standing gazing at the nearly empty sandwich stand, wandered over to the hot section, only fries, some dried up rice thing, dried up fried chicken, dried up roast chicken, and a nasty looking vegetarian/vegan dish. As he turned to go back to the sandwich stand, he bumped into someone, someone taller and extremely good-looking, fuck he was gorgeous and he was wearing a dog collar, shit, it was that new instructor, Armie, Armie Hammer. He hadn’t seen him but he had heard about him, the rumours were true

‘Sorry.’

‘It’s OK, I’m OK.’

He turned to face him properly, he had a good look at him not too serious, but enough to get a good gauge of him. Yep, he was mighty fine. 

‘Not much choice left. McDonalds might be a better option, still have another hour or so here…See you around.’

He paused for effect.

‘Armie...’

It was said with just the right amount of sauce and invitation.

‘Sorry, I don’t think we’ve met, but you look familiar. I’m Armie, Armie Hammer, but you know that right? I just started here lecturing on the philosophy modules. You have me at a loss, sorry I don’t know your name.’

Armie was a little flustered. He wasn’t used to this self-confidence amongst students.

‘I’m Timmy, Timmy Chalamet.’

‘Timmy, nice to meet you, I think I will be teaching one of your classes next semester.’

‘I don’t think so, I’m in the third year – Instructors only teach the first year, if you are lucky you might get a second year class. Anyway, I need to go, see you around.’

Timmy tried to leave, something was holding him back, he had been a bit rude. He looked to see if Mr Hammer had noticed.

He had noticed and his piercing blue eyes were literally rolling in their gaze of him, he had never seen anything like it, a kind of pure anger, very pure, but it wasn’t really anger, it was something else. This was interesting.

Timmy kind of presented himself, he knew what this was. And he knew Mr Hammer had no way of dealing with him. He looked directly at him, then at his mouth and then at the dick and then back up to the eyes. Mr Hammer was holding his eye with a small forced smile. The eyes were still piercing through him, this time colder, more controlled. He seemed very calm, very resolute, about what Timmy could only guess and it seemed he had guessed wrong.

‘Goodnight Timothy, I’ll see you in class.’

Fuck him. He picked up a sandwich and a coke, paid for them, consumed them in the refectory while catching up on social media, there was some weird shit on Instagram, some people lived on it, they lived their whole lives on it, for Timmy it was a way of sharing some things he had seen, and a way of storing memories. He had a public account and a new private account every time he got a new boyfriend, he had seven or eight archived private accounts testament to the duration of the relationships, he’d archive them when the relationship ended. He liked to keep in touch but if they were no longer in a relationship, communication was through the public account, he didn’t mess around. Anyway, enough wasting time, he had things he had to do. He went back to the library did what he had to for a class next week, and slipped out as he had the first time. This time he walked around the building avoiding the garden to the other side, keeping to the rear of the building instead of the front. He knelt down, that was uncomfortable, twisted his legs and sat down resting his back against the wall and began to take his things out of his bag, where was his book, the quote was specific he needed it. Ah…here it was at the bottom, he got a white pencil out so that he could trace the words, this would need two bricks: “It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it” He wanted to use a larger font to make it more visible, he wasn’t going to do another one so this one had to be a little bigger but then thought best keep it small, it was more likely to be left in situ, so decided against, and, when he wrote it in practice in his note book, he could see that it needed to be read in one. He heard steps, they halted, this side of the building was on solid ground, he’d hear if anyone was approaching, he put his things back in the bag, stood up and straightened himself, pulled everything tidy and walked around the back, nobody there, he must have mis-heard, walked back, walked to the rear again, definitely no one there, went back to the corner of the building, he sat back down again, got his things out again, decided to work quickly. The guards came to this spot last, it wasn’t many words, he carefully traced them in the pencil, got out his little bottle of paint and his special fine brush, the shape of the words were in his fingers, he got them out onto the brickwork quickly was closing the jar and about to find the pieces of tissue paper he used to wipe the brush when he heard the steps again. No time to hide or put things away, shit, shit, shit.

‘Good Evening Mr Chalamet.’

Fuck, that fucking Mr Hammer, that fucking Armie Hammer.

‘Hello Armie.’

Might as well go balls out.

Armie examined the handiwork.

‘This is pretty good. You have a nice hand. Did you do art as well?’

‘No, I am not arty, Armie.’

‘Are you normally known as Timmy or Timothy?’

‘Timothy by older people.’

Armie turned the eyes on him, not as before, this time there was genuine laughter.

‘Are you always so chipper.’

Chipper, what the fuck did that mean?

‘Do you mean mouthy?’ 

Timmy said it in such a way that what he meant was unmistakable. His mother would have knocked his head off his shoulders, he was really pushing things.

‘Timothy, you have two choices. Come with me, I mean work with me with the Rikers Debate Project that I run on Saturdays for the next twelve weeks – let’s call it community service, or, report yourself to the Faculty. Which is it? I can’t let vandalism of this fine building pass. I think I know enough about you now to know this is not your first attempt, is it? Those other two fine pieces of graffiti belong to you as well, don’t they?

Armie worked through his nervousness to remain calm and cool. He presented a very steady and even tempered mien.

Timmy was trying to stare him out. It wasn’t working.

‘What if I don’t want to do either?’

‘Well in that instance I have no choice but to report you. I am a member of staff, this is unacceptable behaviour. You are an excellent student, I want to give you a chance and I don’t want to see you go out of the college disgraced. Which is it to be?’ 

He had regained complete control of the situation.

‘Fuck.’

Timmy stood there defiant, not directing at Armie but at the same time putting it out there.

‘One more chance.’

Now he knew that he had he had Timothy.

Timmy waited a long while, filled the time with gathering up his things, stubbornness written in his face in and right through his body. Cleaning the brush, walking over to a bin and getting rid of his waste paper and other extraneous material in the bottom of his bag, full of purpose and yet out of control. All the while cursing silently. His parents would kill him if he was chucked out, he worked out his options as he put everything straight. He could probably get into another school if he had to leave but it wouldn’t be as good, the twelve weeks would take him up to Christmas, he would lose half of his Saturday, that fucker was going to make him stay in the building for the whole morning or afternoon, now he was going to have to spend additional time in the library weekday evenings. The semester was fucked. He even went back to the brickwork and wiped off a smear with a little bit of turps he had in another small bottle and a cloth.. Turned round and looked to see what Mr Hammer was doing. Nothing, just watching. He’d try once more.

‘You should report me.’

‘I could report you, but do you really want to go out of college in that way? What is it to be?’

‘Do I have a fucking choice? I’ll come to your project.’

‘Timothy, I don’t find your language acceptable, would you please refrain from swearing.’

Timmy walked off, otherwise he was going to curse some more.

Armie had been working late, after the encounter with Timmy he’d gone back to the office and picked up his things. He shared an office with other instructors, it was a four berth office and everyone hot desked, if it was full then there was a desk he could use in with the research students, but he didn’t like being in that office, the inhabitants might be his age but they behaved like students and the room was often untidy and the conversation banter. He’d been asked to be the moderator on the presentations of the third year class on Metaethics and had been doing some background research. He obviously had the basic ethics sorted but he wanted to understand and know current thinking before he attended the class, his mentor Professior Clarke had given him some reading and pointed him in the direction of the specialists. He’d booked an appointment to see the associate professor who lead in this area, he was contemplating undertaking a doctorate, but wasn’t sure how this fit into his religious life, it was something he needed to discuss with Father Richard back in the community – what was the value, was it purely a vainglorious attempt to fulfil the teaching of the Jesuits. He also wanted to talk to Father Peter. He retained links with Father Peter, and regarded him as his father in church. He’d already had the conversation with his family, another sounding board, especially Vic, in fact he had facetimed Vic for over an hour to discuss it without his parents being there. He tried to maintain a close and loving relationship with Vic, he was the person he trusted most, no matter what was going on with either them, each was the person who the other wanted to hear.

Studying was expensive, he had paid off his first degree college fees but if he went for the doctorate, he would have to find a job that essentially allowed him to study and earn money, that mean finding a project which could sponsor his doctorate or lecturing in another institution; he didn’t hope to get such a post at Columbia, it meant he would have to move again. He had at least another eight years before he completed his training and could call himself a Jesuit priest, a doctorate would take anywhere between three and five years, he might have paid everything off by the time he completed training. He resigned himself and put the thoughts to one side, it would come as it would, something would work out, he could trust those above, Spirit would guide him.

Timmy was a conundrum, he couldn’t work out why he was so rude, he was used to men and women coming on to him. It was easy to deal with, as discussed with his brother he acknowledged the attention and that was as far as it went. Timmy didn’t turn him on, they had just met and he was at some point going to run into him on a teacher/pupil basis, so he expected - no he deserved respect. Not in the sense that as a member of staff he automatically deserved to be given respect, he had to do something to gain that respect, it was just from the starting point that as a person, he started with the belief that he deserved to be treated better. He had done nothing wrong in fact he was helping Timothy, he had given him a chance, he could just have reported him, but the formal procedures for dealing with these types of misdemeanours was protracted. In truth he didn’t know if Timmy would be excluded from University but whatever would have happened he would have left the college with some kind of stain against his character, who would want to employ someone who had vandalised his campus, even if it was with elegant writing and classical quotes. No, employers would not come running there were plenty of young men who came out of the other end of a university education with very clean profiles, they got employed first and in prestigious roles.

Then he thought perhaps Timothy didn’t care, was musing on this and why Timmy was being such an ass, enjoying the back and forth in his mind, then came the slow realisation. I cannot afford to get involved in deception, Timothy might actually go to the Dean and say he was being blackmailed. He ran hot and cold, what the fuck was he thinking. Never mind that Timothy might not get employed so easily if found out, his ass was gonna get sacked if Timothy went to the Dean, goodbye lecturing career and life as a Jesuit. Who could he talk to? Now his body was showing him who was in charge, his stomach was cramping the sensation was running down into his bowels, his shoulders were tight and head was beginning to thump as the blood tried to run through constricted veins. He got up. Sat down. What was he going to do? Thought about going to to see if Timothy was still on campus, that was pointless, the building was locked up by now. Then his mind ran on the conversation and how he had come to that decision, the one to work with Timmy. That was also pointless, he had to manage the situation, he began to panic now. If he were to go to the Dean and say that he offered the opportunity to a student in order to prevent him going through the appropriate disciplinary process, he was technically guilty of three crimes, the first to deceive, the second to pervert University regulations, and thirdly to seek advantage by having both his will over the student and unpaid assistance in the charity. All was well-meaning, but likely to cause embarrassment to everyone. Perhaps he should just hand in his notice, not offer an excuse just say that something urgent had come up and say he had to leave. The work he had started with the Debating group was just beginning bear fruit. He put his head in his hands. The world was falling apart.

Timmy was sitting in his room. What the fuck just happened? He rolled a joint, and laid back on his bed. Somehow he had offered to help with prisoners at Rikers. He was still in shock. Was he actually going to go work in a prison? That would be good for his CV. And Mr Hammer…Armie. He could not lie, that man was fucking…his cock twitched...he tried to hang onto the sensation. He wanted to feel him lying on top of him, he could not lie. He was a fucking priest. Jesus Fucking Christ. His luck. Sorry Paul but if he could fuck Armie Hammer just once, his life was made…it was unlikely. The junk was beginning to work, he let that thought rest, yeah Armie Fucking Hammer, yeah he definitely would. Wait, but he was virtually blackmailing him, his excitement wavered – it wasn’t right, lecturers couldn’t offer to ignore inappropriate behaviour in return for something unassociated or not within due process. He brightened, it was Mr Hammer, it would be alright. The excitement returned, wavered again then fell off. And with it his mood changed, it wasn’t right. What were his options: refuse to do the work, speak to the Dean, do as he had promised, or do nothing - was that the same as refusing? He took another toke, that was better, couldn’t think about it now…he’d deal with it tomorrow. Settled back and slowly got wasted, then made a booty call to Paul. One way or another he had to get the whole thing out of his mind. No more fucking graffiti, it was a shit idea in the first place, what was he thinking?

The next morning he went into college, called into the admin. office to pick up a book he was being lent by one of the tutors on the study of Metaphysics. Heard the gossip whilst he was waiting, Mr Hammer had gone, handed in his resignation and gone immediately, nobody but nobody knew why, and if they did they were keeping schtum. And, nobody knew where he had gone, he hadn’t gone back home, it was a mystery. Timmy stood there stunned, left the book on the counter in a daze, went out of the office, didn’t go to class, went back to lie on the bed, lit up a big joint and lay there all day. Alternatively happy, relieved and, well basically sorry to see him go.


	4. Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They meet again, some time has passed, sometimes life hands out nice surprises.

“Non est ad astra mollis e terris via"

"There is no easy way from the earth to the stars”

\- Seneca

The day had been difficult. The children querulous and demanding, they argued with him and questioned his theory on happiness and whether or not it was something deserved or earnt. It made him think about his circumstances. He had used quotes from Seneca:

“For the person who lives a virtuous life, of steadfastness and good judgment, happiness is always within reach.”

on the one hand, and on the other:

"Wisdom allows nothing to be good that will not be so forever; no man to be happy but he that needs no other happiness than what he has within himself; no man to be great or powerful that is not master of himself."

After Columbia he had gone on retreat for 30 days to study Jesuit theory and the Spiritual Exercises, and in the meantime asked Father Richard to find him a place where he could continue to teach. He had enjoyed working with the university students but felt like he should try a different arena. He kept on with his study with the aim of the doctorate and when not teaching or running the school debating society he would have a book to hand. Meals were eaten in solitude, evenings in contemplation. He had moved into the parent church’s priory. There was room, it housed the father priest who was the lead clergyman at St. Andrew’s Church, the school of which he taught at. Two associates, and two Jesuits, himself and an older man who had entered the ministry after his wife had died lived there. It was like a dorm. He liked it, he was the youngest and also the most quiet and reflective. Father Richard knew that Armie needed to be surrounded with love and care, this was perfect, he had placed another troubled young priest there.

In Armie Father Richard had seen an unformed young man, desperate to be a priest but lacking the purview to understand how he should behave. When they had spoken Armie could not explain why he had taken the route he had with Timmy.

‘What made you think of offering this as a way out Armie?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Come on, I think you do. You could have spoken to him and asked him to make the decision, or walked on by?’

‘I told you I don’t know. I just know it was stupid. And what I regret most is that I loved working there, it had everything I wanted. I could see myself staying there for the rest of my Regency. I was stupid. And I could not have just walked by, I walked round the corner and there he was just about to put his brush away. It was obvious what he was doing.’

‘Armie, sometimes it is not about doing the right thing, sometimes it is about doing what is right in the situation. He was causing no danger to anyone, sure it was a nonsense thing to do, but common to young men who are full of pride and want to leave their mark on property that does not belong to them. You had no need to get involved.’

‘I know.’

‘You will have to do penance. I suggest you take a retreat, solitude and hunger as marks of penance and absolution. There’s a retreat in New Jersey that offers the resources and facilities you need. Will you take it?

‘Yes.’

‘Armie, the live of a priest is not easy, it requires that you are able to hold thought and consider your options, and the best option for the person in front of you. I would say that at the time, you were not thinking about what was best for the student. You thought what would be best for you do. The art of objectivity has to be learnt.

There is little you can do now, I understand why you walked away, but in doing so you left the student in the feeling that you felt you had done wrong and not him. What do you feel about the situation now?’

‘Hindsight is a great thing. I wish I had never laid eyes on him Father. One of the tutors thought he was an excellent student and others were aware of him. He was in good standing and thought well of, he could have gone into teaching either at school or university level. I don’t know Father Richard…the whole thing got away from me. I thought I was helping him, it was only after he’d gone that I thought of the consequences – I put myself in danger, and the student at a disadvantage.’

At that moment Armie felt defeated. Father Richard was teaching him a hard lesson and it wasn’t the first time that someone had said to him that he did not have to act on every impulse or desire. He was learning the hard way that it pays sometimes to walk away. Where there is no danger to person or living being, unless right action is taken or known, leave well alone. He could have reported the incident, told Timothy that he was going to report him or walked away. The options were only now clear to him. When he had spoken to Vic, Vic had just laughed and called him an idiot, asking what he hoped to achieve by taking such action, could he not see that he was placing himself at a disadvantage, he had put himself at danger of blackmail or the ridicule of being brought up on the same charge of deceit as he was threatening Timothy, what had crossed his mind? He couldn’t answer that either.

The other priests had somewhat lived lives, the pastor and one of associates had come from South America, the other associate came from Nigeria, and his fellow Jesuit was Italian-American. In terms of his current skills, he had modern languages and a very good grasp on how to put philosophy across to people with limited knowledge. He had those type of abstract skills but his human skills were under-developed; he had the knack of being able to initiate communication with people, he could get on with most but by comparison he was naive, his laid back easy going openness did not play so well in New York. Sometimes his colleagues would look up at something he had said, his fellow Jesuit would sometimes try to help him out, often he would be at a loss as to why he needed help. If the adults thought him disingenuous, the school children felt on equal terms with him and they were not wrong, his lack of worldly experience shone through, it was part of what drew people to him, it was in fact no bad thing, the glow of his belief and general goodness was borne on his face, it was just at times he felt the loss of not being able to draw upon life experiences others had at their wherewithal, and he felt it as loss, it like felt regret, something he could resolve but did not know how.

St Andrew’s was an independent school which had been assumed by the Jesuits. The students were not wealthy, their parents worked hard to afford the fees which had to be supplemented by fundraising activities, the normal school fundraising bake sales and raffles, and more exotic events such as an Historical Harlem bike ride last summer, his legs killed him afterwards, but inspired him to make exercise a regular feature of his life, thereafter he built it into his morning routine and rode a bike to school. A dinner party potluck safari, where he out did everyone in his group, they thought he could not cook and he produced a masterful coq au vin with mashed potatoes, broccoli, asparagus and peas, albeit the dessert was a shop bought but authentic crème caramel. And lastly he was involved in putting on a candlelit concert at the Greenwood Cemetery chapel, tickets were 100 dollars, the musicians and singers were known and tickets had flown out the door, it was going to be a smallish exclusive event with the promise of a celebrity, a well-known actress who lived in New York was rumoured to be attending, and Armie knew that she would be attending. So he bought himself a ticket; he needed an evening off, and he wanted good company, a number of staff and their partners were going. It was expensive but no more than a night at the theatre would cost. The setting promised to be spectacular, it wasn’t just the chapel but the surroundings. There were many acres of cemetery, for those interested after the concert, a Friend of the cemetery had offered to take a small group on a walk through the cemetery, ending at midnight on the hill overlooking New York, for those fit enough to climb and not fearing a walk through graves and mausoleums.

In school Armie wore a shirt, sweater and Jesuit tie, if he was socialising (not often) he might retain the tie or wear a collar, and if he was going to be amongst the non-religious dark shirt and black trousers, he had one smart outfit. It was hardly worn in fact he could only remember wearing it once, for the school staff dinner, Vic had bought it for him the last Christmas. It was a very dark blue shirt with matching trousers. He had not said how much it had cost, he only knew its effect, several of the women in the office had turned to look and him when he came into the office to meet everyone and he watched as faces turned from Oh it’s Armie to, fuck, it’s Armie. That was one of the reasons he hardly worn it, it drew lust from others. He felt no particular way about it, it was a nice smart outfit but of course the mirror he was only looking to make sure that all buttons and zips were properly done up, and the shirt was tucked in smoothly. He did not see the ass that was on point, the slim muscled body just the right side of toned, nor that the way he carried his height was like it was nothing and that he was comfortable in his skin. He did not see how his hair shone when he washed it in the shower, nor how the barber could cut his hair to show off the line of his cheek and jaw. He had good teeth and a strong smile, not smug or proud in fact a real smile, genuine and welcoming. As with other religious men, the goodness shone out of him, most would not take advantage of how he looked, and he did not make the most or take advantage himself. He got out one of his work jackets and put it on, black cotton similar to linen but smooth, it curved over his shoulders and sunk clinging down into his waist, his ass just slightly lifting the vent at the back. He never saw when he went into the school office that several hands itched to touch it, only respect for his profession preventing stroking or feeling that perfect ass.

Father Richard saw it and the effect he had on some people, it was just a question of time before some woman lost her mind over him, Armie would have to deal with it as best as he could, there was no formal training on how to deal with inappropriate behaviour. After their session to discuss Armie’s penance he knew he would have to talk with Armie about dealing with unwanted attention sooner rather than later, then he wondered was it going to be a woman or man that would be his greatest challenge, it almost better be a man than woman. He saw that this might indeed be Armie’s greatest challenge, because he had never shown any inclination towards man or woman and then the secondary thought – how much mastery over his own body did Armie have? And had he ever had to exercise any self-control? He hoped that before ordination, Armie was tested it was only through fire that clay could be hardened, Armie had not been tested and could not anticipate the struggle of overcoming earthly pleasure and physical desire. Some men were made for the priesthood, others had the desire and managed it if it was not woke; he still did not know where Armie was in this respect, it was dangerous territory. They had had a conversation long ago, but now Armie was fully a man, nearly thirty, a man in his prime, something to be feared.

Three years had passed since he had seen Timothy, who must be around twenty-three, he was coming thirty, he wasn’t sure why that thought came to him, and then remembered that he had read that Timothy was acting, and had come to New York to take part in a show that was on Broadway. A small role, somehow he was still on the Columbia email list for news and updates. It must be the same list for alumni and past staff, he could have stopped it if he wished, in fact he kept meaning to. He went out of his room and went to see Father Enrique.

‘Just leaving now, don’t wait for me I might do the midnight walk thing. I don’t have to be in school tomorrow until lunchtime.’

‘Just let Martha know that you will be late, she will worry – have you got a key son?’

‘Yes Sir, I won’t get you all up when I come in.’

‘We won’t hear you; the snoring is tremendous.’

He was right, most of the men snored.

‘Get an uber thing, don’t worry about the cost the priory can pay.’

‘Father, I can afford it, it isn’t a church cost. I am going of my own accord, I’ll pay.’

‘Have you eaten?’

‘Yes Father.’

‘Got a drink?’

‘There will be light refreshments, I am staff, we are privileged.’

‘Off you go then, behave and have a good time.’

Armie laughed, went down the stairs and out of the door. It was six, the concert started at seven-thirty, it should take about forty-five minutes to an hour to get there. He had plenty of time. He didn’t have to help out, his role was done, he could just turn up and sit down. It was early Autumn, the warmth was still in the air, it might be colder later, he wondered if he should have bought a scarf with him, too late now he was on the subway and it was hot. He took off his jacket, remained standing, a young woman caught his eye and winked at him, he blushed. He didn’t travel very often on the subway. He felt like he was meat on a hook, he couldn’t get away, the girl got up, she was around twenty-five, as she went past him she said softly: ‘Pity you are not going my way.’ Armie blushed even more, a patent fixed smile on his face. The embarrassment due to the fact that it was on the subway and the girl was not discreet, he should have worn his collar, he was then he realised it was his protection. The rest of the journey went without mishap, he got out of 25th Street station and walked up the block, was at the cemetery by seven, and in his seat at ten past. He sat at the back in a corner, not wanting to draw attention to himself, it wasn’t a very large space and from his corner he could watch everything going on. He put his jacket on his chair and went over to have a quick word with the Principal and his wife, they were joined by the celebrity was who was surprisingly pleasant.

‘Mike tells me you are a priest.’

‘Not quite, I’ve just done my three-year Regency, the initial training, still have a way to go.’

‘Where’s your collar.’

‘At home, I don’t have to wear it.’

‘I think I know that, where are you sitting? Why are you hiding away?’

‘Not hiding, I like being at the back, I can hear everything, and I am not surrounded by fidgeting people.’

‘I feel you; I am the celeb and I have to be seen.’

The next was said quietly. Armie drew near, he liked her and she was no threat, she seemed very settled and unlikely to cause trouble.

‘It’s a nightmare…Time to take our seats.’

The musicians were coming on, they were followed by the singers and then the soloists. As Armie scanned the room to watch for the entry of the conductor, his eye was caught. It couldn’t be…he sat up straight and was seen, two people had come in very late there was a seat beside him and a seat at the front. Armie’s eyes were wide, no, he was coming over, that must be his mother, they resembled each other, sufficient that there was no doubt that Timothy had come with his mother. His mother pointed to the front and walked up there. Her son walked towards him. Fuck. He quickly said a Hail Mary. Fuck. Don’t come over.

‘It is you.’

‘Yes.’

The conductor came out no time for talk, which was just as well, because Armie had no words. The pleasant looking student had turned into a handsome sharp cheeked bright-eyed man, tallish, well five ten or eleven. Dark wavy hair long, well below his ears, the eyes hazel or green, the mouth soft and deep. He hadn’t noticed those things before, he hadn’t been so close before, and he knew he was lying to himself, he had been close and he had closed himself off from his effect, now it was like some spring had opened up and running up and down in him. He felt like he was trapped but it was different from the girl, different in that his body reacted to Timothy like it knew him and wanted him, it was the complete package. His heart beat fast. He felt strange. He didn’t know what to do with himself, everything seemed possible, but he didn’t know what. He had rested his jacket on the chair, took it off and as Timothy took off his jacket the conductor’s baton rose, and silence fell. The lights were turned off and the room glowed in candlelight. Armie sat there alert, not to the music, physically alert and attuned to every move, slight or not of the man sitting next to him. It was not restful and at the same time delightful.

At the end of the first piece Timothy turned to him and smiled.

‘You OK?’

Armie nodded but he wasn’t OK. For the rest of the concert he held his face forward and ignored Timothy, who glanced across occasionally but did not seem to mind. Like Armie he was entranced by the music. The all-male choir included choir boys, their high trebles and alto voices wafting through the chapel and directly into Armie’s heart. He felt lifted and at the same time cursed. It was as if the music was speaking directly to him, alerting him to the joy and pain that life holds. At times he felt spiritually centred, whole and one with God. This was different, it was ecstasy, the rush between oblivion and bliss and he began to understand Dante and Milton. Turmoil capable of producing words of wonder and excitement, inspiration driving pieces of text which came to his mind. He felt heady. He decided to rest in the music, to be a receiver, it gave him comfort, and it took his mind off the person sitting next to him.

At the end of the concert after many ovations and rounds of genteel applause the audience rose, and Timmy fully turned to him and extended his hand.

‘I want to thank you for what you did. It was a turning point for me. I realised how stupid I had been and really began to concentrate on my study. I realised how privileged I was and am, and I behaved like a dick. So your action paid off, I came 3rd in my class. Thank you.’

Armie took the hand and shook it, it was soft, and firm, the hand shaking his was confident, strong clasping fingers surrounding his hand, squeezing gently. Fine slender fingers. And he felt everything, the warmth, the skin, the charge as they touched. Timmy’s mother came over.

‘And who are you? Timmy introduce me to this fine specimen.’

That broke Armie’s reverie. He extended his hand to Nicole, that was her name.

‘How do you know my son?’

‘He’s the man I told you about, the one who didn’t dish me in.’

Nicole took a good look between Armie and Timmy, something crossed her face, a mask of politeness passed right behind it.

‘Are you going to take that walk?’

Armie was all confusion, he wanted to see if Timothy was going to say yes and make a decision.

‘I will, if you will Armie.’

A direct look, a clear invitation. No messing.

‘There’s drinks, a private celebration of the music, do you want to join me? I work at the school this is fundraising for, it’s off to the side in the…’

‘I won’t stay, I can get the train back into town with Alice, it’s still early. Are you going to stay with us at home tonight Timmy or going back to you place?’

It was early, a little after eight-thirty, she could catch the nine pm train and be back by ten.

‘I don’t know, I have a key, see you later I’ll call.’

‘Nice to meet you Armie, I hope we get a chance to actually talk. Goodnight.’

She hugged him, then her son and left.

‘I’ll join you at the drinks thing, then we can talk while we walk. Where did you say it was... oh yeah, it’s over there…people are gathering, what are you waiting for? Come on, all the drinks will be gone, that’s how it is at these things. Is there food?’

He grabbed Armie’s arm and enthusiastically pulled him across the chapel. Out of the corner of his eye, Armie could see another teacher looking closely at him, and at Timmy. He released his arm, Timmy looked back.

‘Not appropriate?’ 

Thereafter he mainly stood off and was polite.

‘Who is this gentleman, I think I recognise him.’

The celebrity actress was upon them as soon as they entered.

‘Hi Margo.’

‘Timothy, you little shit, why didn’t you say you were coming.’

‘How would I know you were coming, you are so secretive, you don’t even have social media, how would I know. I suppose you’ve met Armie?’

‘Yes. We spoke briefly before the concert. What are you doing in New York?’

‘You know what I am doing in New York, I live here, and I finished that film and I am just about to start rehearsals for the show. I can get you tickets…do you want a ticket Armie?’ He turned a hopeful face towards Armie who was contemplating a response.

Before Armie could answer, they were joined by the Principal and the conversation expanded generally. Timothy gave him a sorry look, as the Principal became star-struck and went on to introduce his wife and daughter both of whom were glazed over with happiness at having two celebrities to talk to. Armie stepped back and out of the conversation. It gave him a chance, Sukie a fellow teacher came across.

‘Are they star-struck? I have a more succinct description, but it is rude, it will burn your delicate ears.’

‘Very much so. Ah, you mean star-fucker…I’ll say a Hail Mary later.’ He would have to do a rosary before he went to bed.

‘Come with me, I want to introduce you to some ordinary folk.’

Sukie took him across to meet her husband, he got into a conversation with them and had settled, when he felt a hand in his back. He wasn’t used to someone touching him and he jumped, pressing into the hand, startled at the pressure of a full hand against his spine, the hand stroked down stopping above his ass. He did not know what to feel. The calmness he had been feeling was gone.

‘Are you going to do the walk Armie?’ Sukie’s husband Ben was asking. ‘We are, you can join us.’

‘Can I come too?’

They didn’t know him, he wasn’t famous, and they were civil.

‘Sure, sorry, I don’t your name. Have you come with Armie; you were sitting next to him?’ 

Both said no immediately.

‘I knew Armie from Columbia University, he taught some classes there and he helped me at a significant time of my life. This is the first time I have met him in three years, I am very grateful to be able to say how thankful I am of his help.’

‘Wow! Praise indeed Armie.’

‘Timothy is very generous. The circumstances were challenging. We have each learnt from the incident. In the three years since we had our meeting, Timothy has achieved a great deal, I am still somewhat on a journey.’

‘Don’t be too hard on yourself Armie…’

Timmy spoke with understanding and empathy, and Armie felt it.

They gazed at each other, depth of feeling and emerging chemistry apparent. Softly and slowly becoming aware of the crowd around them.

‘Are you coming?’

‘Yes.’

Sukie touched her husband. He caught on.

‘We’ll just get our things, see you outside.’

Alone with Timothy, surrounded by other people, Armie slipped back into some kind of sub-space. He really was not aware of what was happening to him. Timmy helped him back.

‘Are you dressed for this?’

‘Not really, this is my one good outfit and I have on my work shoes, what about you Timothy?’

‘Sneakers. I might have to give them a wipe, they’re not…anyway, should be alright. Let’s go.’

The walk was on firm ground. The guide knew his group would probably not be dressed for proper walking, he planned to keep to pathways and the staircase up to the Civil War Soldiers' Monument and a pathway down, all told they were going to be walking for a couple of hours. It was a lot.

They kept to the back of the group.

‘So, what happened after I left.’

‘I spoke to my friend Will, he’s not my boyfriend – we just grew up together, I tell him everything…well not everything but you know, we talk, he has good advice. I listen to him. Shoot, I’m rambling. Anyway, the day you handed your resignation in, I was at the apartment and I talked to my boyfriend, he’s still my boyfriend Paul and they both said I should stop that shit and just get on with my studying. And then I found out you had gone. And it took me a couple of days to work through what I felt and what I felt about what you had done.’

‘I’m sorry Timothy. It wasn’t right to put you in that position. I should have spoken with you and left you to make a decision or just reported you. I made a decision where it was not mine to make. I realised that I was in effect blackmailing you and then asking you to work for nothing in that project I was running. I felt sick afterwards. I thought you might report me and that my career would be over. I didn’t know how to manage the situation and I was wrong.’

The conversation was making Armie think that apart from Vic who else could he call upon for objective advice. He was alone in school, he got along with people but he did not have a close friend. When at high school he had joined some activities, he played some sport, but he did not go off to the coffee bars or McDonalds or go to the park after school. In the school canteen, at his table, there was always his special table, a book in his hand normally a religious text or some philosophical book, something pure or a classic. He had not been lost in school, he had enjoyed himself, but he thought, what have I missed out on? There was a whole life he had yet to live.

‘I would never have done that Armie, I was in the wrong too. I had just as much as you to lose. We neither would have won…Wow! Look at that grave, Christ those people had money…sorry…’

‘It’s OK I sometimes blaspheme too…I say a few Hail Marys, that helps…’

‘…Why did you choose to go into the Jesuits Armie, it’s a hard life…I mean it’s a restricted life, how did you know…?’

‘It choose me Timothy. When I was small, four or five, I would sit in church and I would look around and I knew what I wanted. I didn’t have to think, all the time I was between three and sixteen I wanted to be in church, I felt best when I was there. I liked the preaching, I didn’t understand what people were saying until really quite late in my teens, I mean truly understand what was being said and how to apply it. When I began to realise that what was being said could be applied, I knew that I wanted to be able to use the knowledge I had to help others. What sealed for me was the realisation that with spiritual knowledge and material advice I could help in a material way.

I love ceremony, routine, knowing what will be happening at each point of the day, what prayers should be said, when and why and above all I love the thought of a present and ever living Christ. It is real to me. I can see my vocation. The Jesuits believe in compassion and aiding people who are disadvantaged, we are scholars it is the basis of our church. I don’t mean church…I mean you know where we set up or live or work. Teaching others through the bible, campaigning, justice for those who aren’t able to help themselves or who are being treated badly because they do not how to work a system. All of that appealed to me when I was young, and it still appeals to me now. I know what I am doing and what my purpose is. It is all governed by Christ’s life and his teaching, he was a real person he understood the temptations of the flesh and of the mind. It is real.’

Timmy was silent. Armie was animated and fulfilled, certain of his choice in life, the mild uncertainty of earlier was gone. Timmy watched him as he spoke, his face was lit up and his hands moved in time with his voice, it was almost musical.

The guide interrupted them. Timothy wanted to hear more; he was intrigued by this Armie. He’d met him once. He’d heard about him. He wanted to know more. Grateful that this opportunity had presented itself. If Armie had taught him at Columbia, he would never have dreamt of having of having this type of conversation. There was a noise, he looked around, they had reached the staircase. Some people did not want to go up, a second guide was going to walk the others round the next level part of the walk.

‘Gonna go up?’

‘Why not? Are you fit?’

‘No, but I have youth on my side…and we will get a rest at the top.’

Armie caught onto Timothy and smiled. He didn’t mind being teased.

They had no breath for constant conversation on the way up, the guide kept a steady pace to keep them moving. When they reached the top, Armie held audience by quoting Milton as they gazed across Manhattan, there weren’t many of them, eight of them – all in pairs, the guide was solo. When he finished the guide thanked him, others in the group were murmuring thanks also.

Timmy was effusive. ‘That was impressive, thank you. I liked that. I got a real sense of the timelessness of what you were saying, that was about Adam and Eve…? Wow! Yeah?’

Armie wondered why he had chosen that piece; he became a little self-conscious. Timmy rubbed his arm to bring him back to the present, some of the previous feeling he had felt in the chapel came back, a mixture of fear and rousing desire. The hand was withdrawn, he watched as it left his arm, their eyes caught and Timothy was perceptive.

‘Sorry, I forget sometimes that not everyone is comfortable with me being physical. When I took my acting classes it was unnerving for me too, now I don’t care, but I forget not everyone can deal with it. Sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable.’

‘It’s OK…’

Maybe it was something to do with being at the top of the mount, being able to look into a clear sky, he felt free, the still close air, then Armie felt a soft cool breeze brush his cheek, and run through his hair, his scalp tingling, nerves driving downwards, and remembered the touch of a hand. For the first time ever he felt the pure physical joy of being alive, something was stirring within him, he didn’t know what it was, but he knew he had to find out how to feel like this again.


	5. Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy takes a chance and invites Armie to share a meal. It is an opening to a conversation which gives Armie room to consider how Timothy views him. He is not comfortable, he's forced to look into himself and finds things that he has not acknowledged about himself, nor how he deals with temptation. He doesn't realise that giving consideration to these feelings may lead him to path he had not thought to follow.

**“Count each day as a separate life” **

– Seneca

‘There’s someone waiting for you.’

Suki was giving him a mysterious look. He wasn’t expecting anyone, it was well past school lunchtime. His next interaction was after school, the Debating Society committee was meeting to set up next term’s schedule and subjects.

‘Who is it?’

‘Come and see. I think you’ll want to see him.’

Suki had watched how Timothy and Armie had interacted. Her antenna was twitching, she didn’t really know Armie but she knew he needed friends who were outside his community of brother Jesuits. Timothy was nice, and when he looked at Armie he looked at him with admiration and interest. He wanted more, more than Armie realised, more than perhaps even he realised. There would be no harm if a friendship, and if there was more, then that was up to Armie; if committed to a religious life nothing would deter him and if he needed to get things out of his system, well now was the right time to try, yes, now was absolutely the right time.

Armie gathered his papers and pen, and closed the book he had been trying to read, piled them to the side and left the teacher’s rest room, and went into the reception area, still wondering who this could be.

‘No clues?’

‘If I tell you, you will anticipate…there he is…’

‘Hi Armie.’

‘Oh…I wasn’t expecting you…Hello Timothy, how are you? How can I help?’

‘I don’t want anything…I mean I don’t want…what I would like is…do you have time? I mean I haven’t eaten and I was in the area and I thought I would swing by and see if you were around…you can watch me eat or something…it’s late to be eating…if you don’t have time it doesn’t matter…I can go if you’re busy…’

‘I have time Timothy, I’m not needed until four when classes finish…let me get my coat.’

Armie was in his version of a school uniform, he took the tie off as he went back into the rest room. Suki noticed; she was right. There was a ‘v’ of soft hair on his chest, and a strong neck, the muscles turned as he pulled the tie off. He left the neck of the shirt open and Suki felt the breath slightly leave her. Armie was very attractive, there was something visceral about him, like a smell, a deep smell, something that you could draw into your body and not even realise you were doing it. She watched as Timothy’s nostrils flared, and his chest filled as he got it too. Armie didn’t realise what he was doing, he was unaware of his power and effect.

‘Right. Where would you like to go?’

‘I don’t know the area. You choose.’

‘There’s a vegetarian café down the street they do great food, soul food for vegetarians. I eat there on Fridays. You don’t mind strongish flavours?’

‘I eat anything…that’s a lie…I can’t eat anything spicy…Is the food spicy? Shit sorry. I’m the person who only has cheese on his pizza. Let me try it…OK, don’t mind me…let’s go there.’

‘Are you OK? You seem a bit…’

‘Yeah…I’m fine…How are you Armie? Recovered from yesterday, I mean last night? Finished later than I thought it would…’

‘I’m good Timothy…Did you get home alright?’

They had got onto one of the last trains with others in the group, and rather than share a cab, Armie thought it best to split and take individual cabs. He’d been polite but distant when they had arrived back at the Chapel. Reality re-hit him in the form of opinion. He didn’t want to encourage anything out of the way, he was essentially a priest, people were already looking at them as they joined the main group from the back where they had been the whole time they had been walking, Timothy was more than five years younger than him, it wasn’t appropriate – but he knew he wanted to see him again, had to see him again.

‘Yeah, my Mom was waiting up for me. She still thinks I am seventeen and not able to come home without throwing up.’

‘She cares for you Timothy; you will always be her baby. My Mom is the same, she still asks me if I have eaten lunch and dinner and makes suggestions about what I should be wearing, it cannot be helped. You just have to bear it.’

‘I know Armie, I was joking. I’m not a baby.’

Armie felt like he did when he was at school, not quite clued in, only getting it when things were fully explained.

‘Don’t look like that, I didn’t mean anything by what I just said.’

Timothy had put his hand briefly on Armie’s arm.

Armie gave a little smile, an apology reinforced.

‘OK…I can be a bit serious…I didn’t catch on…sorry’

‘Don’t be sorry…is this it?’

‘Yes, let’s go in.’

‘How does it work, do we have to get…’

‘How can I help you gentlemen, Oh Armie, nice to see you…do you want your normal table? It’s free…you do? OK. Who’s your friend? Don’t mind me, can I get you some water?’

The waitress took them to a table near the back it was kind of set off the main area and quiet, none of the tables could be described as private but this was the best one for not being seen. Timmy sat with his back to the wall, Armie facing him. They got comfortable and started to look at the daily paper menus.

‘Oh it’s like that…” Ohhh Armie”…she likes you.’ 

‘She is just being pleasant, nobody is interested in me in that way.’

‘What do you mean in that way? Have you looked in a mirror recently? Everybody looks at you in that way.’

Armie disregarded him. The look that his brother would recognise descended. Timothy got a cold feeling over him. So far he had seen only pleasant Armie, he did not like this version, it was closed up and non-receptive.

‘If that is all you think of me, perhaps you should eat alone, I don’t have time for that. It’s not what I am about. I am a priest in making and it will serve you well to remember that. I don’t take kindly to being regarded as a thing, judged only by what he looks like. I would still be the same person if I looked different, I am not how I look.’

‘That’s not true Armie. It is a fact. You are an attractive man. You may wish to hide away from it and not deal with it, but you are a sexy, no sexually attractive man. I am not gonna sit here and lie to you and tell that the way you look has no bearing on how I regard you, cos that is not true. I like looking at you and so do many other people. You have to deal with it not me. The way you look is going to have a bearing on how people deal with you. You are pleasant and polite, that goes a good way to reducing the impact of your looks because people will assume that because you are good looking you will also be vain or proud and you are not…no…no…let me finish. If you are committed to being a priest, you will have to learn how to deal with women who want to get you into bed. I’ll go so far as to say people, men too, who do not care that you are a priest, and, you will be tempted. And don’t tell me that you are beyond that, no one is beyond the right kind of flattery. Right, I’ve said what I need to and more than I should. Let’s eat. What do you recommend?’

‘I normally have the daily omelette and salad.’

‘Every time?’

‘Sometimes I have the vegan option.’ Armie was now defensive.

‘An oat bar if I just want something sweet and quick.’

Timothy pierced him with a look.

‘Sweet and quick…like me…’

Timothy hailed the waitress.

‘Ready to order?’

She took out her pad, and a small pencil.

‘I’ll have the special, and a Green tea, Armie will have an oat bar and an English tea. Thanks.’ 

‘Chocolate or raisin?’

‘Raisin. Hey what’s your name’

‘Linda’

‘Well Linda, he doesn’t want anything too sweet…’

She looked between them. Armie’s face was saying nothing and Timothy was smirking. She smiled but noted the dynamics and went off to get the order. They tried to resume the conversation. Armie did not appear to have the wherewithal to answer Timothy’s questions.

He was subdued. Every fibre of his being was fighting the idea of seeing his attractiveness and acknowledging it. He could feel the disgust of pride and association wash over him. It was a sin. How could he put himself up against the natural delight of the world, flowers, the sky, earth, the pure love of a small child or the innocence of a baby these things were unsullied. Timothy made him feel like he was failing. Failing at one of the key tenets of his following. There was purity around him, and he was soiled. He hung his head and said a quick prayer.

Soul of Christ, sanctify me.

Body of Christ, save me.

Blood of Christ, inebriate me.

Water from the side of Christ, wash me.

Passion of Christ, strengthen me.

O Good Jesus, hear me.

Within your wounds hide me.

Permit me not to be separated from you.

From the wicked foe, defend me.

At the hour of my death, call me

and bid me come to you

That with your saints I may praise you

For ever and ever. Amen.

‘Are you praying?’

Armie had a brief moment of quiet, then answered.

‘Yes.’

‘What for?’

‘Protection from Pride….’

‘And what? Lust?’

Armie got up.

‘Sit Down. I am not lusting after you. Sit Down. I don’t know you, it doesn’t work that way…well not all the time…ha…ha…ha…You are interesting to me, Sit Down Armie. What do you think is going to happen? We not gonna start rolling around the table and on the floor fucking…nope. I want to talk to you. You are very interesting.’

‘The concept of sin is very real to me. Something I need to be constantly aware of, my body is a trap I cannot fall into.’

‘How long have you been holding onto the idea that your body is the gateway to sin? Come on enlighten me.’

Armie didn’t know where to start. He basically sat there in misery. Misery because he was betwixt heaven and hell. The prayer was his way of holding on. He didn’t even know what sin he was committing but it felt like he was doing something wrong and then he looked up and honestly gazed into Timmy’s face and everything seemed right. So far he had avoided really looking at him because he knew what he was really trying to avoid, and the result was close to original sin.

‘That’s better. Right so what is the theory of sin. I have some knowledge and some ideas – I already heard the bullshit, what do you have to say?’

‘Sin is to act against nature, to despoil what is good. To disobey what has been taught, what is true and the true religion. I wasn’t brought up in a family which was heavily into living by the gospel. In fact my family could at times be dissolute and I never questioned them, and I don’t question now what they did or do. Look, my brother slept around and I had to tell him that I didn’t want to be part of that, I didn’t like it but I could deal with it. It’s different for me. It is part of the Jesuit teaching, celibacy, simplicity, defending the poor and disadvantaged, teaching and scholarship, and love of Christ. If I am proud of my physical appearance and believe I am special because of it, I invite all manner of temptation and risk losing myself in disordered thought. Look, I know how other people see me. I have been dealing with this for a while. I had to find a way if I am to stay in the priesthood.’

‘I am with Aristotle, there is no such thing as sin…I paraphrase…only seeking of what is good, it is only ignorance or not wilfulness that prevents us from seeing and doing what is good. It is a very poor way of life to be constantly guarding against human nature. You spend the whole time trying to live in a wholesome and good way and a large part of it absolving yourself, committing sin forgiving yourself and committing sin, it is a never-ending circle…it is only human nature, desire is natural.’

‘But that is the point, to live a life where sin ceases; desire reduces if one can be truly free really living the teaching of Christ, there is peace and happiness. There is space in the heart and love in the teachings of Christ.’

The waitress was back with their food, she set it down together with cutlery, glasses and water.

‘Need anything else?’

‘Nope, this looks great. Thanks Linda’

Timothy sent her off with a look and turned his attention back to Armie.

‘Don’t you ever feel desire Armie? Don’t you ever just want something, or someone?’

‘I’ve never actually wanted someone in that way…and I don’t care about things, giving up things is easy for me.’

‘What do you mean you have never wanted someone in that way? Desire comes in many forms, why did you jump to the conclusion I was talking about sex. You give yourself away…Have you ever touched yourself?’

Armie flushed.

‘No.’

‘Never ever.’

Armie was lying and Timothy knew it. When Armie was young before he had knowing he would rub himself against his teddy. When his mother caught him and took his toy away, he was bereft. Too young to express his hurt verbally, he expressed himself by not speaking and withdrawing, only slowly coming round when his mother and father spent time with him, and replaced his private pleasure with more public ones.

‘Never.’

Now he would have to reconcile or make confession, something he had never confessed to would have to be spoken. He felt ashamed.

‘You’re lying. What did you do? Was it when you were young? We all did things we would now be ashamed of when we were young. I took my dick out at the dinner table one day. My Mom told me to put it away and that I could play with it when I went to bed. Of course by the time I went to bed, I had forgotten about it, but I used to play with my dick when I was young and didn’t know any better. I enjoyed it and it was not sinful.’

Armie eyes held him, he wanted to see if what he was saying was true. He found compassion and kindness.

‘Catholicism is built on written text and we are taught that we need to do good works in order to avoid sin. We are not redeemed by ourselves…’

‘The Apocrypha says that, not the bible…you can be redeemed by faith, trust or fellowship in Christ, and Charity…or love…I keep forgetting that you Jesuits are warrior Catholics…got to have something to fight for, something to do otherwise the sin will get ya…that’s the truth of it isn’t it…rather have your hand on a book than on your dick.’

This made Armie laugh.

‘You have some knowledge…’

‘I studied philosophy, or did you forget…that is why the concept of sin, hell and heaven are theories to me…they are social constructs to manipulate people into good behaviour. Next you will tell me that you believe in heaven and hell.’

They gradually reverted to some kind of normal conversation and caught up with what had been happening over the past three years. Armie relaxed and became amiable, he played along with the pleasant conversation while Timothy kept his eyes on him and metaphorically never let him go. Intent was written all over his face, Armie was wondering what he wanted, he let himself drift into conversation. Everything else went away.

‘What time have you got to be back?’

Armie had forgotten that he had a deadline, the intent was working, he realised that he had engaged with Timothy.

‘What time is it? I have to be back at four.’

‘Quarter to, I finished here anyway.’ They had barely had an hour. 

‘I’ll just go to the bathroom and we can go back.’

On the way back to the table, Timmy paid for the meal.

‘You should have checked with me; I would have paid.’

‘Armie, don’t worry. I just got a big job and got my final check for the film. I am currently awash with money, make the most, next year might be different.’

Armie noted that the inference.

‘Who says that we will still be talking in a year’s time?’

‘We’ll be doing more than talking…’

Armie swallowed…deeply.

Timmy had a way of jumping him forward, he was used to his brother teasing him or his father winding him up like a clock to prank him. Timmy looked at him directly, looked into his eyes and asked the question. Do you like me? Armie didn’t know how to answer. He never flirted with anyone, not even his family, he did not know how to turn a look into a question of questionable orientation. He couldn’t work out what Timothy wanted.

‘Have you ever kissed anyone?’

Armie looked shocked, he quickly looked around to see if anyone was around to hear.

‘There’s no-one here except me and you baby. Linda’s out back.’

Armie was all anticipation, he looked around, scanning checking he was safe, but safe from what? When he had come out to lunch he’d no sense that something like this was going to happen, what exactly was happening? He couldn’t say. Did he like Timothy? He tried to hold on to the awareness of what he was and who he was meant to be

‘Don’t play with me. Come on let’s go.’

He stood up.

‘I’m not playing with you Armie.’

‘I am still in a position of influence. We can’t do this.’

‘Do what? Five minutes ago, whatever is on your mind now was not even an idea. You took fright at what you’re feeling.’

Something had switched on in his body, he felt something moving in his stomach, sensation, an urge. Armie was transfixed. Timothy held his eye and approached him and kissed him gently on his mouth. Soft lips resting gently on Armie’s mouth for a moment, a slight push to press his lips open, then Timothy’s mouth covered his and closed both their lips shut, a fleeting touch of tongue over his closed mouth, brushing them sensuously. It was a kiss of both experience and introduction. There was a moment when they both savoured what had happened.

‘…That is not a sin. It is natural and an indication of my desire for you. I have wanted to do that since last night. You caught me short three years ago Armie when you came around that corner, I like you. I liked you then and I like you now. I don’t care whether you are a priest of not. This is something you have to face, you are attractive. I want you. Other people want you. You have to make a decision.’

‘There is no decision to make. I am a priest and I have a vocation. I am a Jesuit priest and my life is mapped out. You may think that you can put temptation and lust in my way, but I have strength in my belief, and I know that God will guide me in the correct way. 

Perhaps it might be best if we didn’t meet again. You have laid your cards on the table and I must do likewise. Goodbye Timothy, I wish you good luck with your career. Don’t come to the school again. I won’t see you.’

He didn’t want to leave this school, like he had had to leave the university, lightening could strike twice, but not for him.

Timothy went out first, he heard him saying a few words and then goodbye. Armie sat down. His legs were shaking, he didn’t know how he had stayed so calm. When Timothy had kissed him, his whole being had come alive, something inside him was filling up. His head stayed calm and his body took over. It wanted to press itself into Timothy, it was like he had separated himself into two parts; spirit watched as the physical rejoiced in being set free for the first time. As Father Richard had foreseen and warned him, he had a Jesuit mind, and a human body, his test was going to be how he could sublimate his physical needs to follow the right path.

‘You OK Armie?’

‘Yes.’

‘Your friend was very nice, I liked him, bring him again.’

He left without a goodbye or saying her name. A noticeable omission. She watched as he left the restaurant, they would both be back, there was something between them.

He got up and walked down the street not only was he going to be late, he couldn’t say where he was going.


	6. Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy makes a decision. Armie is being drawn into something he doesn't completely understand, but knows he wants.

“A gift consists not of what is done or given, but in the intention of the giver or doer.”

\- Seneca

The small parcel arrived a month later. Sukie opened it, inside was a gift wrapped package not fancy but clearly expensive, there was a note for her and a note to be attached to the package, the note for the package was gold ink on the soft heavy paper envelope, a calligraphed ‘for Armie’.

Sukie knew who it was from. She opened her note. It said: ‘Sorry to trouble you, could you make sure Armie gets this. I don’t know if he has his own office or desk and I want to make sure he gets it. I shall be out of the country for a few weeks. I thought I would be in New York but I can’t be. Thanks, Timothy’, and yesterday’s date. He must have Fed Ex’d. She wanted to open it she knew it was something worth having not just in value but also in sentiment. He left a phone number too, she texted it to say it had safely arrived and that she would make sure he received it. She put it in her desk drawer and waited the room was clear, then left it under cover on the desk Armie used. She didn’t want to leave it out in the open but also wanted to make sure he would not miss it. She went back to her desk and waited.

Ten minutes later Armie came in, set his coffee to the side, got out his phone and checked it. He had a routine, checked his calendar to make sure he knew what was coming up, sat down, looked for his schedule or to-do list, read that, noticed the edge of the parcel pulled it out. Sat back in his chair and turned it over and over in his large but sensitive hands. Pulled the note off, it was stuck on with a dab of glue. Sukie heard the envelope being opened, Armie was not a tearer, he gently pulled open the envelope like he didn’t want to spoil it. He knew who it was from too.

‘I didn’t want to part on bad terms. I like you Armie and I would not like to think that I distressed you. Here’s a thing. I can’t get you out of my mind. I have been thinking about our conversation and I wanted to get you something to read about the subject of Sin, well not just Sin but about life as a Catholic. It’s important to understand how we got here, right?’

Armie put the note down. Opened the package, it was a book, the Penguin version of Augustine of Hippo’s City of God, edited by Henry Bettenson. He didn’t have this version. In the inner cover was some writing in a small hand in black ink. ‘To Armie, from Tim’ and the date of their lunch. Inside the book was a postcard, with sticky note, ‘This is your bookmark’. A postcard of Adam and Eve in Paradise by Tenier (<https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/459069>), on the back a little drawing of a serpent and an apple in a hand, on the right hand side, in the same gold ink, ‘Tim’, and the date of their lunch.

He opened it, and read a page, flicked to another page and read that. Put the book down, looked at his watch, he had about half an hour, he picked the book up again and flicked back to the very first page he had looked at, and then turned to the first page proper of the book, read for fifteen minutes, closed the book and put it back in its cover, together with bookmark and the note. Opened the desk drawer and got out a small bag, put everything in there and then into his backpack. He was happy, it showed in his face, he didn’t need to smile. Sukie smiled she had wondered if she had done the right thing, judging by his reaction, the answer had to be yes. She texted Timothy: ‘Gift received and apparently welcomed.’

Timothy didn’t leave Armie any contact details, he hoped that Sukie would contact him, even if it was just to say that the gift had been received. He was happy it was apparently received with pleasure. He had indeed missed Armie, well not missed him, he didn’t know him well enough to miss him. What he meant to himself was that he hadn’t had enough of Armie, he wanted more, and he wasn’t sure how to or if he would get it. Armie was a religious man, beyond religious…really he was off limits. That didn’t phase Timothy, he had made up his mind and he was going to do everything he could to get him. He recognised that he had to play a soft slow game, a game of strategy, one where he crept up on Armie, it was going to take time. Make it impossible for Armie to ignore or forget him. Show him that he understood what was at stake. Reputation, ease, discomfort, deflection, misrepresentation, lying, deception, breaking rules, and finally forgiveness and absolution. What were the rules? Well, if Armie had rules, he had to have some too. Would he, could he be celibate too, could he wait for him, wait for him to be ready for whatever Timothy had to offer? It wasn’t just physical, Timmy was attracted to the whole package, unearthly conviction and belief shone out of Armie, he was good, intelligent and righteous and in a way which was not cloistered in his religion, he was that and worldly and he didn’t know. He was flesh and blood, the earthy light of his body rung more true to Timothy than the light of religion, that light had pierced Timothy heart and soul, he could not do without him. What was more important was whether or not he could he be satisfied with whatever Armie could give him? He might give him nothing or he might give him everything. If he gave him everything, how often could this be and for how long? He might only get one day or one night where he possessed Armie body and soul, he might get a lifetime. What would be enough? He wasn’t in a church where he could get to him every Sunday, He lived essentially in a dorm, he worked in a school, he had other outside activities and demands, there was very little time where he was on his own or when he was not occupied. And no regular place or time when he was available. It was untenable. Wait, put all that to one side. He had to make a start, first contact him, give him a token a holding gift, to spike his attraction, that he could appreciate , something that he could not ignore, and he had to tell him why, be upfront and honest, give him the chance to reject him out of hand. He didn’t leave contact details but he didn’t have to, if Armie wanted him to stop he could contact him, he knew who his mother was and he could contact Timothy’s agent, if he didn’t hear anything he was in with a chance. He just had to wait, bide his time and choose well.

A week later, nothing he waited another week, nothing.

A month after the first token, a padded envelope addressed directly to Armie arrived. In a normal open hand, the label was addressed to Fr. A Hammer, c/o St Andrew’s School and the address. Inside was a small picture frame, in the frame was a postcard size piece of card mounted professionally, cream on cream, in a silver frame, it was old, dulled with age, vintage, but real silver. On the card in black ink, in an elegant hand the words:

One word

Frees us of all the weight and pain of life:

That word is love.

Along with the frame was a single piece of paper. On that written in ink, possibly a fountain pen, a small open modern hand. It could fit into the back of the frame if required.

‘I do not condescend to say I love you, I don’t know you and I don’t know what there is to love in you. You might not be a nice person. You might be a lovely person. I would like the chance to find out. Will you spare me some time? Not now. Not now. I can wait. I will write you things, things that you need to know, about me, about my life. How I feel. What I want. Do you mind? We might be friends. I think that is what I would like. That we are friends. That we can trust and understand each other. Would that be alright? The words are from Socrates. The word Love is loaded. I know. There is love in many ways and of many things. The love between friends is precious. Golden, like the sun to shine on us all. Something to be desired. Something deserved. Why am I so certain? I don’t know. I just know. I have friends, I just know that what I want from them is different to what I need from you.’

‘What’s that Armie? Looks nice.’

‘A friend sent it to me.’

‘What does it say?’

‘A Socrates’ quote, philosophy.’

He didn’t show Sukie what it actually said. She didn’t press him to reveal it, there were other people in the room and it might draw attention.

‘We are having a few people round for a meal on Friday night, would you like to come? You could bring your friend, it will be very discreet, just us and another couple who are into counselling, it will be discreet and private.’

Armie looked up into her face, it was the face of someone who could not talk of something that was upon their mind and in their mouth.

‘Thanks, but no, another time perhaps? I have to go.’

‘Coffee? Later?’

‘OK, shall we go to Martha’s?’

‘I have a class in forty-five minutes, we could go after the class, I’m free then until the afternoon like you.’

‘OK, I’ll do my workshop and we can go at eleven-thirty. Deal?’

‘Deal.’

‘So what is the story?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Timothy?’

‘I’ve met him a couple of times, that’s it.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. There’s nothing more.’

‘OK. Not gonna lie, you’ve had a couple of interesting parcels, was beginning to get intrigued.’

‘Nothing to be intrigued about, as I said, just some gifts from friends…’

‘Oh…OK…Have you decided how to handle that class? I had them last year they were a nightmare…’

Sukie let the subject drop. Armie had chosen not to speak about whatever was going on. She had done her bit. It looked like Timothy would contact him directly, if another parcel came addressed to her for Armie, she would pass it on and ask Timothy to send his gifts to him specifically, she didn’t want to say that she wouldn’t act as go between, because well who knows what might happen in future…he might need some help…some support, especially if what she thought was happening was happening…passing on love tokens, pass, that bit was over. Because they were obviously love tokens, she could see through Armie and he was lying to himself and, no question, actively keeping a secret that she would be best to stay out of.

Armie decided that he did not need to advise anyone about Timothy’s communications. He would make a sacrament of Reconciliation on Sunday, confess his sin, the sin of deception and lying; they were not meeting, they were not doing anything, they were not talking, so there was nothing he had to do penance for, but in his heart he knew he was playing with words and a time would come when he would have to confess something. For the time being he was enjoying being the centre of someone’s attention, at some distance, free of actually committing a grave sin, it was not his sin, someone else was initiating this activity. He thought about stopping it…he did not need anyone to tell him he was playing with fire. A pause. No, he knew what he was doing, everything was under control, he could stop at any time.

There was no more correspondence for a month, then the letters started. They were journals, journals of Timothy’s days, what he was doing, how he felt. Stories about his work and his family. Sometimes he just sent a diatribe, ideas floating around in his head, observations that he could not share with his acting colleagues, what he people watched on the subway, what happened in rehearsals, conversations he had with cab drivers, a shopping list, a list of all his shopping transactions for a week. All this was eye-opening. There was no declaration of love or friendship or how he felt about Armie. Everything was about Timothy. Just a straight telling of his days and how he reacted to what was happening around him. They arrived daily, sometimes at times of less activity thrice weekly, never less than twice weekly, never more than 2 A4 pages, lined A4 torn from a pad. After a several months, a request to use WhatApp, phone number sent.

“It will be easier for me Armie, I can do it as I go along. Also it’s more secure, safer.”

That gave Armie pause for thought, now it was definitely secret and private. He sent Timothy a PO address, a telephone number and his email. By return he received a WhatsApp update and a private Instagram account which only they shared, one account, two users, nothing tagged, followed or liked, posts floated in the miasma of posts, a way of commenting and sharing photos of what they done who they had seen. Timothy retained his professional account and another for friends and family. He bought two phones and sent one to Armie, the new phone account was in his name, he added Armie as a second user, fingerprints only as a way of opening the phone, a private email account for both of them, now there could be no mistake, everything was private and secure. They were set for all forms of correspondence, it was going to be easy to keep in touch, the friendship could blossom. Another realisation, he was making special arrangements, he had a day where he had doubt, should he be doing this. Timothy was a public figure, he had a lot to lose, he was taking reasonable precautions. Armie closed up that thought because he was now engaged and he had good reason to protect himself and Timothy, others might see it as he did, what they had communicated did not show they were dating, it was just a friendship; the angel guide that had been sitting on his shoulder safely leading him had turned his back after giving him several warnings over the months and weeks Timothy had been sending the journals, and the inner voice that used to advise him was muted.

Two months later, a ticket arrived for a Brahms requiem at W83 Ministry Center. It was six months to the date of the Mozart Requiem, a kind of anniversary. In his head everything was in suspense, and waiting for a decision. He put the date in his calendar. It didn’t mean he was going.

He was lying to himself.

He bought Vic a ticket and booked him a room in a small boutique hotel, on the pretext he would have a chaperone. He knew that he needed to keep himself separate from Timothy, it was artificial like he was trying to build a wall in his head, which he could hide behind. One side where he followed the teaching, the other where he was the earthly man, he knew what he was doing. Protecting himself because a month after he received Timothy’s first missive, he sent a photo through WhatsApp. A photo of himself, working with prisoners, a picture from the past it caught him in action picture he was moving as he smiled at the achievement and awarding of a certificate to one of the prisoners, someone who had a really difficult family life and who had found himself and recognised his own abilities through the prison school. This was what drove Armie seeing other people come though their problems with his help, supporting the disadvantaged, making a contribution, something that counted, that could be measured. An achievement on both sides. And his pleasure showed, he was happy. He wanted timothy to see this, natural, the glow amongst the gritty circumstances.

The next day, he sent a message.

‘A busy day.’

That was all no explanation. 

The following day.

‘I am going to run the Debating Society tonight with the young people, they are so interesting and new to everything, am looking forward to it, it’s the start of our series of talks.’

And then before he went to bed.

‘A Good Evening, and now to bed.’

He didn’t look for answers, he was just happy to express himself, his heart was blooming and it felt good.

Vic brought his girlfriend, and he bought her a ticket also. He knew Armie was up to something. He would help him out, but ultimately the decision had to be his, whatever decision that was. Armie was going to have to come to terms with himself on his own, learn how to deal with whatever was going on. Armie had not told Vic about the SM accounts. He planned to spend time with him to discuss what he thought about it. He had no one else he could be completely honest with. They were all sitting apart, Vic and the girlfriend in two separated seats, Timothy and Armie together. Armie did not find the chance to speak to Vic about the accounts, when Vic arrived he sent Carrie up to the room and he went to have a coffee with his brother.

‘How are things, man?’

‘OK.’

‘What do you mean OK? OK…What’s up?’

‘Nothing.’

‘OK?…OK?…Armie I know you right? When you tell me things are OK, I know you are hiding something. What’s Up?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Don’t know…more shit…come on. When you are ready to talk to me, call. I’m just going to see how Carrie is.’

‘Carrie?’

‘Yes. Carrie.’

‘You bought your girlfriend?’

‘Yes. Remember what happened last time we spent the weekend together? Huh? I don’t what to mess it up with her. I am taking no chances. What chances are you taking Armie? I can tell from your face, you have something going on. Spill.’

He was right. Armie was apprehensive, he could not talk, his face empty but not blank. Specific thoughts were running through his mind, he had fight to follow his train of thought, his senses turned inside out, like flesh feeling a rough breeze, gone out of conscious, watching ideas as they fell into his brain. He had to work out himself what might be the consequences. He had only thought about what Father Richard might say, if he knew about the communication between himself and Timothy and he knew what he would say. Stop. He didn’t have to ask. He knew the answer already. And, now there might be two more people who might see him and Timmy together. Sukie and her husband already knew ‘something’, he was inviting trouble and beginning to rue the idea of inviting his brother, now he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted Vic’s advice, he needed to share this with someone, it was hard. He had a view of the future. The need to keep everything he had with Timothy secret. See. It was here already, he saw a future with Timothy, this was wrong. He hadn’t done anything and yet, he had gone down a path already which lead to some kind of deception and revelation. He was putting himself and Timothy in danger. It came entirely upon him, what he was really doing. He had started a love affair without the sex. He was feeding disobedience.

‘What did you say?’

‘Shall we have dinner? I could tell Carrie that I made a mistake and I need to talk to you, or that you need to talk to me. What would you like Armie?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Who is it?’

‘What…’

‘Who is it Armie?’

Armie fell silent.

‘Probably best if you don’t come to the Requiem. It was a mistake. Sorry.’

Armie got up, left the coffee shop and called Timothy.

‘I’m not coming.’

‘Where do you want to meet?’

Silence.

‘Let’s go for walk, probably safer, heh?’

Armie texted Vic: 

> Take my tickets, I’ll leave your name on the door, at least you can sit together, you should be able to sell your tickets on the door. Those concerts are very popular. I’ll call you, we can meet for breakfast.

They went for dinner. They had not spoken for six months, not really, plenty of messages, pictures. Not even FaceTime. Armie didn’t have anywhere safe he could videochat with Timothy and Timothy was holding to his plan. Sweet, slow and patient. Other parts of his life began to fall off him so he could make room for Armie.

Paul had begun to ask him why he was so distracted. It had become a familiar refrain, and the answers elusive.

‘I’m not distracted.’

‘You are. I’ve known you a long time Tim. There’s something going on with you that you are not sharing with me.’

Timothy looked at him and knew. Things had run their course. Nothing wrong, just not right enough. He wanted to find out who Armie was to him.

‘There’s nothing going on with me. Am I not here with you? Don’t I always come home to you? You are the only person I am intimate with. We’re friends first, established, lovers second, the way it should be, what more could you want?’

Paul knew then that their time was limited. The answers were as one, questions never entirely answered, never lies, not quite truth.

‘Who is he?’

‘There is not a he.’

‘There’s someone. You just haven’t slept with him yet.’

It was left as something unspoken and known. The right moment had not yet arrived.

A month later after Timothy created the private accounts Paul moved out, there had been a noticeable change. Timothy was still kind, still companionable but the shape of the relationship shifted, and slipped out of Paul’s control. He could no longer remember or hold onto the sense of how things had developed between them only felt how amorphous it felt now. He had substance. He was solid like furniture that was comfortable still usable, and in need of a new space, ready to go into the spare room, not what Timothy needed in the future he had shaped out for himself now. They had had a good time, a good four or five years - the last couple or so years at college and the beginning of Timothy’s career and the sex was still good, it was always going to come to this, Paul had known it from the start. Timothy was always destined for someone that he hadn’t met yet, and that was the problem. He’d already met Paul. Logically, he could not be the ‘one’. It hurt, but he was realistic, time was a remedy, he’d had a good run, they’d had good times. Time to let go.

‘The Museum, it’s not far from where we were going anyway. We can find somewhere near there, Armie?’

‘This is a big step for me.’

‘We aren’t doing anything Armie, just meeting for something to eat, that is all.’

‘But that isn’t what this is, is it?’

‘It can be whatever you want…I want to be your friend. I like you, I more than like you, but I don’t know you and you don’t know me, and we don’t know what we want, do we? Let’s see.’

There it was. Said. ‘Let’s see.’ An invitation. A Chance. To discover. To stop.

‘OK.’

‘Good. You know what subway to get out off?’

‘Yes. 81st Street.’

‘Seven?’

‘OK.’

‘What are you wearing?’

Armie blushed.

‘You’re blushing.’

How did he know?

‘I can feel you from here…you have a way of turning pink, it’s very attractive. Wear your dark outfit. I like that.’

‘It’s the only decent outfit I have.’

‘We have to remedy that. We can go shopping. See at you seven.’

The screen on the phone went dark. The phone that Timothy had sent him. The one that contained details of their conversations over WhatsApp. Pictures Timothy had sent him of his travels around Manhattan, landscapes, food, people, himself…himself…his crooked smile…the multi-coloured eyes…unruly curls…the soft pink lips…the slightly sharper left hand side to his face…the cheeks that bloomed rosy when he laughed…things that had drawn him in, engrained memory, and now the chance to engrave them on his heart.

Armie left Vic’s hotel, and turned into the street and went into town, he had just about enough time and thought about buying some new clothes, things in the same tone of the outfit Vic had bought him, blues and greys, he tried on a black shirt but it was too close to his cassock and priestly garb. He was in T. J. Maxx, he picked up a red jumper and had a mixture of designer and basic clothing over his arm. He had never been in there before, he walked around picking things up and putting them back. Clothes began to swim before his eyes, he no longer knew what he was doing. He stood there, mild panic overtaking him. Someone came up to him.

‘What are you looking for?’, the girl was around twenty.

‘You look a bit lost, like my Dad when he goes shopping. When my mom left he didn’t know what to to do with himself. You look just like how he felt.’

Armie was kind of still entranced.

‘He had been set free and he didn’t want to be, nor did he know what to do with freedom. It took him a few years to realise, then he was happy but first he needed to be tied down by convention, then he could compare and adjust. He just married his partner…’

Armie was grateful. He looked into her face, felt safe and unloaded onto her. Not even acknowledging what she had just said.

‘I wear a uniform…I don’t know what to buy…my brother bought some things for me…I was trying to get some things the same…I don’t know my size…dark blue or grey…what do you think?’

He was passing clothes from one hand to another, then looked again to see if she was still being kind.

‘He must be special.’

Armie halted, stalled. Looked the girl in the eye. He trusted her. He could leave her alone for a few moments while he gathered himself. If he was going to do this, he had to admit to that it was what he wanted and that he was going to pay in some way, and if he was going to pay, it had to be worthwhile.

‘Why did you say he?’

‘That is why my Mom left, my Dad wouldn’t admit it either. I have a knack…you are hiding…shine your light. What’s his name?’

‘Timothy.’

‘Nice name. Biblical.’

He hadn’t wanted to make that association. He realised it had been sitting like a stone waiting to drop. Paul’s trusted and faithful partner in spreading the gospel. Paul loved Timothy as he would his own child, they were devoted to each other and worked in tandem, a pair in harmony, trust and understanding.

‘What are you called?’

‘Armie.’

‘Unusual. You should keep the red, here’s a deeper red, take that one too. Several shirts, not grey different blues, come over here…’

Her name was Patricia. They swopped numbers. She managed him like she was his mother.

‘Don’t be a stranger Armie, you can talk to me anytime, I’m not religious, I won’t judge you.’

With that she was gone. How did she know? The fish, it was on his lapel. He took it off. Like an apostle, a fisher of men he was gathering a flock. It felt strange. He liked it.

He got home. No time to think. Ran up to his room and threw down his bags of shopping. Showered, washed his hair, drew on the red jumper, mid blue shirt and his old dark blue trousers and a pair of white sneakers. As he went through the door of his bedroom, he picked up the dark blue Harrington jacket, differently toned to the trousers tending grey than blue, which he had bought on Patricia’s recommendation.

Father Enrique caught him as he was flashing through the door, he had nearly escaped.

‘That’s a nice outfit. Where are you off to?’

‘Dinner with old friend, someone from Columbia.’ It wasn’t a lie.

‘That should be nice’, Father Enrique carried on walking to the priory library, at least that was what it was called, it was really the old formal dining room which had been converted to a place for reading and solitude.

‘See you later Armie.’ He paused by the room door and turned back to look Armie full in the face.

‘You should bring him to the open day. I would like to meet him…Off you go…Keys…?’

‘I don’t think I will be that late.’

‘Take them just in case. Have you told Martha? Yes. Well, enjoy Armie.’

Now he would have to run. He was going to be late.

‘Sorry, sorry, I was out this afternoon, running late…’

He paused. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

‘Hello.’

‘Hello Armie. How are things?’

Timothy was very calm, very certain. He held Armie by his eyes, scanned his face, drank him in, said Hello with his body, a slight movement forward, a cant of the hips, mouth slightly open, the lip pulled in tongue tip just moistening the lower flesh of his lips, and rested back solidly on his feet. Armie’s eyes followed his mouth, rising up his face as Timothy spoke.

Armie blinked.

‘Well Armie. I think we should get off the street. I’ve booked a good pizzeria just up a couple of blocks, you want to walk?’

Armie stuttered into life, and spoke softly. ‘Yes.’

‘So what were you doing this afternoon?’

‘Shopping.’ Armie still had trouble getting his words out.

‘Shopping? Really? I didn’t have you down as a shopper.’

‘I’m not.’

‘You’re wearing what you shopped for?’

‘No. Well. Yes…some…not all..’

‘Prevaricating…already…What do you like most?’

‘Like most?’

‘Of what you have bought Armie.’

‘Oh. This.’ He pulled at the red jumper. It fell flat against his stomach. Timothy’s eyes travelled across and down his body.

‘I like it very much.’

Armie’s colour heightened.

‘It’s just up there on the left, we have to cross.’ The little pizzeria was just off a side street.

‘How do you know this place.’

‘I used to come here all the time, Paul liked it.’

Armie wanted to ask the question, but favoured something less specific. They crossed the street, walked into a cul-de-sac and entered the restaurant.

‘How is he?’

‘We broke up.’

‘You didn’t say…’

They had reached the greeting point

‘I made a reservation, name of Roger Flender. Table for two for seven thirty, I think we are a little early.’

‘No Sir, you are just on time, we are just getting your table ready, as requested we placed your party in the alcove. It’s a bit more private, just how you like it.’

Timothy beamed at the greeter.

‘Ah…it’s just ready…come with me…’

‘They know you…’

‘They don’t know _me_…I come here fairly often but they don’t know who I am…I can hide away…when I am not expected. I’m not really that well known. You OK sitting that side? Come round, I can talk to you better.’

Armie was still monosyllabic.

‘OK.’

He didn’t know what he was supposed to do or say.

‘Don’t treat it like a date, or an event Armie, we are just two people who are having something to eat, we haven’t met for the longest time. You have a lot to tell me. Social Media is shorthand for a real conversation, talk to me.’

Armie still couldn’t speak, the pain of it showed in his face.

Timothy put his hand on his leg and squeezed.

‘Calm down.’

‘Don’t.’

Armie removed the hand. Head straight ahead then turning. A degree of calmness and spoke.

‘How was your day Timothy?’

It seemed to have galvanised him into conversation. It was anger that was speaking. He wasn’t going to be treated like that. He was sharp. This was something he didn’t like. Timothy didn’t mind, he could deal with sharp, he liked it.

‘I had a go see, and I went to see my Mom. I told her we were meeting.’

‘What’s a go see?’

‘I met with a casting agent who works with several directors, she’s not into major films. I don’t fit that model.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Look at me Armie, I’m skinny, I don’t have strong male features, yeah I’m tallish but I will never get a Marvel role unless it’s for some nerdy teenager with secret powers, I just don’t fit. That’s why I met her. She casts for independent movies, she has one that she’s talking to a director about, I think I stand a good chance with that, only problem is the character is gay, well not gay just not straight, well he has an affair with man but he has a long term girlfriend, he has to choose what road he is going down. What do you think about things like that?’

‘I don’t go to films that much, in fact it’s probably three or so years since I went. I am not current.’

‘What would you gentlemen like?’

‘I’ll have thin crust with buffalo mozzarella, thinly sliced tomato, basil and pepper, no salt. Garlic butter dough balls, a green salad, just lettuce and cucumber, a room temperature Peroni, and an Acqua Panna with a little ice in a bowl please.

The waiter did not blink. Armie looked at the waiter. He avoided Timothy’s eyes which were boring into him.

‘A Margherita and house salad please. I’ll just have a San Pellegrino, no ice. Thanks.’

When the waiter had turned away. He spoke.

‘Are you always so difficult.’

‘What is difficult? I don’t like fancy pizza, all they have to do is leave off the salt and olive oil. It’s not a problem. Why are you arguing with me?’

‘You are ordering off menu, why can’t you just order a Margherita, that is essentially what you ordered? Do you think they are going to make a special pizza for you?’

‘Why are you cross?’

‘I am not cross I just don’t like pretentiousness.’

‘That’s not pretentious. I just know what I can eat.’

‘Are you allergic to…’

‘No. What’s the problem? You aren’t cooking it. I am paying for it.’

‘I’ll pay.’

‘No Armie, I invited you, it’s on me. I told you that already. Come on let’s not argue. I want to spend some quality time with you. All we have done is send each other things, we need to talk.’

As they were made to order they had twenty or so minutes before the pizzas arrived.

‘Hey…’ A waiter approached. ‘Do you have any Barbaresco?

‘Timothy…’

‘Yes sir.’

‘Bring a bottle.’

‘Shall I bring the wine menu?’

‘Ha ha ha…Are you trying to tell me it is expensive?’

‘Timothy.’

‘Well most customers prefer to drink the Barolo.’

‘Bring it.’

‘Timothy.’

‘What…And bring two glasses…What’s the matter now?’

Armie didn’t know what to say, whether to offer to pay for the wine or refuse it or just accept.

Timothy put his hand back onto his leg, the leg shifted but the hand to remove it did not return. Timothy stroked the thigh.

‘Don’t worry. I am not going to take advantage of you.’ Timothy squeezed the leg again and brought the hand back onto the table as the wine waiter approached with the bottle of wine. The waiter’s eyes flicked as he caught where the hand was coming from. Timothy looked him straight in the eye and returned the hand, this time, he brought it further up Armie’s leg and pressed deep into the top of Armie’s thigh. Armie was very still. Timothy was taking advantage, the hand stayed right where it was as the wine was poured, rising only to raise the glass to taste the morsel in the glass.

‘That’s good, thank you. We will both have some. Thanks.’

With a flourish the waiter poured into both glasses, wiped the lip of the bottle with his cloth, placed the now half empty bottle carefully in front of them in the centre of the table and went on his business.

‘I can’t drink more than this glass…’

‘OK look, I am never going to force you into anything Armie. If you ever feel uncomfortable with what I am doing or what I say or send you, you just have to tell me. Alright?’

There was consent by silence, a nod of acknowledgement, a turn of the head, Armie’s face was soft, he took time to take in what was in Timothy’s face, a nod in return, a smile in Timothy’s eyes, deepening colour across cheeks and darkened eyes. Timothy wanted to kiss him…it was too soon.

He asked instead about school life, Armie spoke and settled, and then.

‘So…do you want to know why I split from Paul?’

Food came, it took few moments to move things around, there were checks that everything was OK, Armie asked for another bottle of water and then they were left alone again.

‘I don’t know that I need to know actually. What you had with him is nothing to do with me.’

Timothy was taken aback.

‘Don’t you want to know if I gave him up for you…’

A mischievous tone, a little smile to let him know that he was teasing.

‘And I don’t think you gave him up. You were being deceptive and he knew he had to go.’

‘That is exactly it Armie, but I would have stayed with him. I liked him very much but I was not in love with him. I loved him but sometimes that is not enough. We had been together for a while. He was a good person and he knew that he deserved more. I wasn’t deceptive…no more than you or I have been with anyone that we know. Who have you told about our accounts? Who knows?’

A pause, while Armie thought about his, what did he want to say?

‘I haven’t…This is difficult for me Timothy. I don’t know what I am doing…In all things.’

‘What things?’

‘You know what things.’

Timothy brushed his fingers which lay on the table and then covered them with his hand.

‘Talk to me Armie.’

‘I never…you know…’

‘What?’

Timothy’s voice was soft, only meant for Armie, not an interruption, an invitation.

‘You know…I never dated or anything…I had one person that I liked and I couldn’t handle it. It was too much…I never ever went on a date with…him.’

‘Did he ask you? What happened?’

Armie remembered back to when he was seventeen. His body softened, relinquishing control, his eyes rose in thought. Carl was a boy in the class below him but only a few months younger. He had sidled up to Armie one day and pressed a note into his hand.

>Would you like to go for a burger Sat? I would like to treat you

On the back a phone number.

Armie watched him walk off. Carl was one of those boys who liked boys and girls, and boys and girls liked him right back. Dark straight hair, tall, well above average height, slim not skinny, strong legs and deep chest, something to hold onto. A straight back dipping into a small ass. He didn’t care who saw and he didn’t look back. Armie turned back to his locker, face burning. He wanted to go on the date…and the second thought was of the Church’s teaching and his promised vocation. He couldn’t go. He put the note into his wallet. His crush. He still had the note.

‘A boy asked me out on a date, when I was at school, he was bi-sexual…that didn’t matter…’

He clammed up, he didn’t know if Timothy was full-on or bi.

‘I’m gay Armie, I’m not offended. Are you bi or gay?’

‘I don’t know…I never…’

‘Ever kissed a girl or wanted a girl? Ever wanted to to kiss a girl?’

‘…No.’

‘Only men?’

‘…Yes.’

‘So you are gay.’

The church teachings came back to him, he sat back, closed his eyes and prayed.

I know that every perfect gift,

and especially that of chastity,

depends on the power of Your providence.

Without You a mere creature can do nothing.

Therefore, I beg You to defend by Your grace

the chastity and purity of my body and soul.

And if I have ever sensed or imagined anything

that could stain my chastity and purity,

blot it out, Supreme Lord of my powers,

that I may advance with a pure heart in Your love and service,

offering myself on the most pure altar of Your divinity

all the days of my life.

Amen.

And when this wasn’t sufficient he turned to another prayer that he could not remember in completeness but in sentiment.

Lord Jesus, forgive me.

I confess I have been offering myself over to sin, and now I am its slave.

I renounce it

I renounce my sins.

I renounce the ways I have presented my sexuality to sin

I renounce my sexual sins.

I present my sexuality to Jesus Christ.

I sanctify my sexuality to Jesus Christ.

I present the members of my body and my sexuality as instruments of righteousness.

I present my appetite to Jesus Christ. I sanctify my body to Jesus Christ.

I renounce every way I have given myself over to sin. I dedicate and I consecrate my life once more to the rule of Jesus Christ, to be his and his alone.

May your atoning blood cover my sins and cleanse me.

May your holiness possess me totally and completely.

Amen.

His head dipped and a tear rolled down his cheek, Timothy used a finger tip to gently press it away.

The food had turned cold. Uneaten.

‘Waiter…Can you bring the bill please. Can you put this food in cartons and seal the bottle, we will take it with us. We don’t want the salad, just the pizza. Thanks.’

‘Was anything wrong with the food?’

‘No. We got talking and I’m afraid it got cold, we want to take it with us.’

When the waiter turned away.

‘What do you want to do Armie?’

‘I don’t want to go back to the Priory yet…can we find somewhere to talk?’

‘Do you trust me?’

‘Yes.’

‘Come back with me.’


	7. Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move on. There is a coming together and understanding.

They looking back, all th’ eastern side beheld

Of Paradise, so late their happy seat,

Waved over by that flaming brand, the gate

With dreadful faces thronged and fiery arms:

Some natural tears they dropped, but wiped them soon;

The world was all before them, where to choose

Their place of rest, and Providence their guide:

They hand in hand with wand’ring steps and slow,

Through Eden took their solitary way.

‘Will you read to me?’ Timothy pulled out a leather bound copy of Milton. ‘I was inspired by the words you spoke when we were at Greenwood. I found this in a bookshop, my Pops is an Editor, he knows a lot of book shops. One Sunday a few months ago, we went for lunch, boys’ lunch, no women to bother us, and we walked past a pop-up bookshop in a community space – it’s still open I think, we should go.’

‘I can’t go with you Timothy.’

‘Why not?’

‘I would have to confess my sin.’

‘What sin would that be?’

Armie could think of several.

‘Probably best if we do not go down that route.’

‘It wouldn’t be a date, we would just be two friends.’

‘What are your intentions? This is what I want to get clear, that’s what I want to discuss. You confuse me Timothy. You make me confused. I have a life that is relatively free from temptation. But when I am with you I see all possibilities and it makes me frightened.’

‘What is it that frightens you? Is it the idea that we might at some point have a relationship that might involve sex? Or is that something that you will never ever contemplate? Tell me Armie. If you really don’t want to have a relationship with me. It all stops tonight. I meant it when I said that if you felt uncomfortable that we could stop – that covers this as well, what is it?’

They were both still for a while. Armie broke the silence.

‘It isn’t even the relationship and all that that brings. It is knowing that I have divide my loyalty. That I will be breaking a promise that I made to myself and to others. That my vocation is compromised. But…’

Armie broke down and started crying.

‘But…I have this need and I have tried…I never acted on it…and I could push it down and live with it…but now you…and now I know what it is that I was pushing down…and I don’t know you and that is fucking me up…’

Rivulets of tears were streaking his face, it was both controlled and hysterical, for many years he had been trying to deal with an inner turmoil which was now released. Timothy went into the bedroom and brought out the box of tissues, he put it beside Armie and and retired to another chair.

‘Do you want a drink Armie? A glass of wine? Water? I can make coffee if you want it. I have a machine.’

‘Let me talk. I don’t want anything.’ He wiped his face. Settled.

‘I feel like I am about to step off into a pit, and I don’t know how far down I will fall. I made a promise. A promise to love Christ and honour his word. To remain celibate and to serve the community. I am going to break all those promises.

This is a lot. If I carry on corresponding with you knowing where we are ultimately heading, I should confess and if I confess I’ll have to stop. If I carry on without confessing anything I cannot take Communion nor can I participate in the Eucharist. I have already said many extra prayers and rosaries. I have been hiding and supressing what I am doing and how I feel. But I am connected to you Timmy, without any physical engagement, I am connected to you. I feel like I have sense of who you are and I want to know more. You have burst my confusion and left me a path to my true self, a part of of me that I have not been able to acknowledge for so long, not since Carl. When I saw you it was like a spike to me, a spike dragged down into my heart, dragged it out and torn open, that’s how it feels. Since I received your first update, waiting for them to arrive has become a obsession. I would wait for the post to arrive, it would arrive just in time for me to start school. I would miss classes, turn up late, I know it was noticed but I couldn’t, can’t help myself. I would savour the words, read them several times, save them for reading fully later, I bought a box I could seal and lock. I put it in the bottom of my closet. I kept everything you sent me. Sometimes I go and re-read them. And then the first time I wrote you something, I wrote it out ten times.’

Timmy remembered a few scattered texts, he was confused. Armie never sent long messages, always succinct, descriptive, sometimes terse, sometimes eloquent. A few times, quotes, lovely quotes which spoke of his inner person the one that needed to express how he felt. That person had nothing to do with the church. A pure physical being with longing beyond his years, extending into the past and imagining a future. Timothy gently ribbed him.

‘Armie, you sent a three word text.’

‘Don’t. I didn’t know what to say. I am really shy. It’s really hard for me. I felt what I was doing was wrong.’

‘You didn’t answer my question.’

Armie was nonplussed.

‘Will you read to me? You’re not shy. You are just waiting for the opportunity to really be yourself. Start now. I wanted to hear you speak these words privately to me ever since you spoke them on the top of monument at Greenwood.’

‘I know them…’

‘It’s not the same. I want you to say them for me. The whole verse. Wait let me set everything up.’

Timothy got up, took a tissue from the box.

‘Blow your nose.’

He took the tissues and held it to Armie’s face. ‘Blow.’ And gently squeezed Armie’s nose. Took another tissue and wiped Armie’s eyes and mouth. Another tissue taken, his forehead and temple swiped, then Timothy kissed his mouth, softly brushing his lips, sucking tenderly at his mouth, not yet open, a taste and a promise. Armie stayed still and let him, not sure how to receive not wanting to refuse. Now committed.

‘Are you ready?’ He settled himself into Armie’s arms, and put the book into his hands. ‘Ready now? I want to feel the words rise out of your body.’

Armie began shaking.

‘I…’

‘Take your time. Turn a little, that’s it. Comfy? I’m comfy, what did you put on? You smell nice. Ready?’

Armie stood up. 

‘I need to go to the bathroom. Where is it?’

Timothy glanced up at him, then glanced down. Armie’s hand came down to cover his crotch.

‘Through there, take that door. I am going to get myself a glass of wine, do you want one?’

The bathroom door shut.

Armie sat down on the closed seat, it flexed, he got up. Opened the lid, checked the seat was clean and dropped his pants and sat down. Evidence of his discomfort was right in front of him. The disobedient body, it’s sin very evident. He couldn’t touch it. He waited. It would not go down, in fact, it got harder. This was unlike anything he had ever experienced. He could normally get himself under control in a few minutes, this was torture. Not because it was unpleasant. Far from it. It was very pleasant, he wanted to hold it. Timothy was next door, he thought of his long slender hands holding him, that made it worse. It was very hard, this time the sensation was spreading down, his ass began to pull, his taint was pulsing.

‘Are you OK?’

‘Yes. Just leave me alone.’

He got up and kneeled, and began to pray. The complete Novena to St. Joseph. As he began to pray, an ease began to descend. After fifteen minutes, he was ready to return to the sofa. Unsteady, he needed a few moments to prepare himself.

‘Where’s the text?’

Timmy patted the seat beside him. Armie sat down. Timmy moved closer, stretched his arm across Armie’s body and placed a hand on the inside of Armie’s leg, the same sensations arose. Armie got up again.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I’m not sure I can deal with having you sit so close to me.’

‘This is part of what being in a relationship is like Armie. I like sitting next to you, lying in your arms. I like…I want to get physically close to you.’

Armie sat down again.

‘I don’t know how to deal with this. I don’t know what is going on. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Come here.’

Timothy turned side on to him and placed his arms around him.

‘Can I kiss you.’

‘You kissed me twice already...without asking…’

‘This time I want to kiss you properly. I have been longing to for so long, turn round.’

Armie rolled his shoulders and looked at Timothy properly for the first time ever. Taking everything in, his physical presence, the environment, the air seemed charged. He leaned in and waited. His mouth was slightly apart. He closed his eyes and waited.

‘Open your eyes. I want to look at them, at you. Look at me. I want to see if you want this, look at me.’

They held gaze. Then covered each other’s face with eyes. Armie lifted his hand and touched Timothy’s cheek, felt the soft skin, tested a scar near his nose, the rough texture of sparse hair near his mouth. Then his eye, Timothy closed it. Armie kissed his eyelid, then his cheek and licked his jawbone, mouth drawing down over sharp bone, instinctively he wanted to devour him. The other hand came up to frame Timothy’s face. He kissed the other cheek, and the temple. Pulled away and gazed again. The gunmetal, gold and blue iris of Timothy’s eyes shrunk, the pupils a deep molten pool drawing Armie in. Armie’s cornflower blue eyes searched for something in his face.

‘What is it Armie?’

‘Just making sure.’

Armie kissed Timothy. A dry kiss. Then he sucked Timothy’s lower lip and started crying again, but he did not stop. He kissed Timothy again, this time lips slightly open. Timothy opened his mouth, and kissed him back, he traced Armie’s lips with his tongue as he withdrew, and looked into his eyes and leant in, mouth open, pressing Armie’s mouth open with his tongue, slipping it into his mouth. Armie made a noise like that from of all time, and accepted him into his body, joining his tongue with Timothy’s.

‘Is that OK? Do you like it?’

‘Yes.’

Timothy kissed him again, this time letting go all frustration gone into passion. At first Armie balked, and then understanding what it would cost him and that he was prepared to pay, he too let go and gave in. They settled into an easy rhythm, exchanging gentle kisses, deep kisses, tender and wild, a whole gamut, pressing against each other, bodies melting into each other, finding out what was pleasurable, discovering who took a natural lead. Unlike teenagers because they had the patience to wait, try, find out what worked, experience what pleased the other. Then Timothy squeezed a nipple, tongue deep in Armie’s mouth. Armie groaned his name, rolled his body over and on top of Timothy, became alive to what was happening, removed the hand, and sat up.

‘I should go home.’

‘This is a bed, you can stay.’

‘I have things to do. And I can’t stay out too late. I am just meant to be having dinner.

Armie stood up. 

‘I have to go. This is enough, I have some thinking to do.’

Sober. His carapace growing a second protective skin over him. The one that everyone saw, Priest, stable, conservative, not false, something held back, Ecclesiastical façade in place. Timothy had seen the real Armie, the one who was tender, kind and uninhibited. The one who enjoyed his physical side, and wanted to give as much physical pleasure as he took. He had had a taste. He could wait.

‘Are you going to tell anyone?’

‘My brother.’

‘Can you trust him?’

‘I haven’t told him who you are, if that is what you worried about.’

‘Armie, I am more or less out. Everyone knows. I just don’t go about broadcasting it. And I have several girlfriends who will walk with me. Unless you…I just wanted to be sure that you were OK, and that he would treat you with respect, that’s all…’

‘Where is my jacket?’

Timothy got up and fetched it, he handed it Armie, who put it on.

‘Can I have one more kiss before you go?’

Armie regarded him as one who regards the last treat left on a plate, and knows he should not partake.

‘Come here then.’

Timothy pressed his full body length against Armie and initially just wanted to be held, and Armie understood and kissed his hair, his ear, his cheek and then his mouth, a deep deep kiss, like he knew just what was needed by both to carry them through until the next time they met.

‘That’s it. I have to go.’

He pulled his jacket together, did it up and left the apartment.

He didn’t say goodbye, this was a first time there would be others. He wanted the moment as he was going out of the door to last. He was taking more than the kisses with him as he went, there was a loss of something, a kind of knowing replaced the innocence of ignorance; he understood somewhat of what was meant by the ‘downfall’, a falling away into something known but unknown. It wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t wrong but he could not go back, this was where he was. He couldn’t help smiling, yes there was a cost but for now all was right with his world.

On the street, he called Vic and told him to meet him at the Italian coffee stand, near the hotel. It was midnight. He hailed a cab, and he still could not help smiling. The cab driver was empathetic and picked up his feeling.

‘Nice evening?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you see her again?’

‘Him. Yes I will.’

‘This better be good.’

‘It was.’

‘OK…what did you do?’

‘Not here. Lets go a way down.’ They walked back towards the hotel.

Vic had dragged on some clothes, he wasn’t entirely dressed for late night, another sweater or jacket would have done well.

‘Who is he?’

‘Arty.’

‘Where did you meet?’

‘Columbia.’

‘Not…’

‘Yes.’

‘…So spill the beans.’

For the next half an hour, Armie described how he had reached this point.

‘So what were you meant to be doing this evening. You are here at nearly one, about to tell me of some kind of debauchery.’

‘Not debauchery, we had dinner, that didn’t go too well. I went back to his. And he inducted me.’

‘Inducted? What the fuck? Did you sleep with him?’

‘No. Kissing, that’s all. It was very nice.’

‘Armie, you are fucked.’

‘I know. I need someone that I can talk to freely. I have to confess this. I want you to be the person that I talk to about this without judgement.’

Vic fell silent.

‘What does this mean Armie? Are you making me your accomplice in something that you definitely should not be doing?’

He looked square at Armie, making his point.

‘This is serious. What do you intend doing with this man?’

Armie was fully sober now and back in his senses. He realised that by bringing Vic into his confidence he was involving him, merely listening meant that Vic had to make a decision, support without judgement or take the view that it was not acceptable and ask him to not talk about it. What would he do if it was the latter, he wasn’t sure he could cope. He needed that outlet. 

Vic was thinking. He loved his brother, in his heart he was proud that he had taken the route into the priesthood. He was proud of him. Proud of what he had achieved. Proud that he stuck to what he wanted to do. And now this man was threatening to take this away from him. Could he be proud of him now? The dilemma was upon him at once. Judgement was clouding his mind. His brother needed him, he knew that he needed someone who would not judge him and let him be free to talk about the guilt that was coming. He could confess and do penance, but who could he talk his heart to? It had to be him, but he did not want details, he just wanted to support him, help him to come whatever decision he needed to, guide him if he could, advise him from position of greater experience in matters of love and sex. He could do that, he still had reason to be proud of him, he would still serve his community and the people who needed his help, he was still his big brother, he loved him and he could do that for him.

Armie was watching the thoughts go through Vic’s head, he relaxed when he saw that Vic had come to terms with his dilemma. Except it wasn’t a dilemma. His only question to himself now was how much did he have to hide, could he stay the right side? Not transgress himself out of the community. He didn’t know the answer to that. He had only just started. He had to put some thoughts out of his head. If he went there, he would have to leave the priesthood and he had no intention of doing so. He would do so much, nothing that meant he had to give up his vocation.

‘I am not leaving the Jesuits. I can’t do that. This is my whole life.’

‘Except it isn’t now, is it Armie?’

‘I am nowhere near there.’

‘Did you want to fuck him?’

Rather than lie, Armie kept quiet.

‘That is forbidden isn’t it?’

‘Nothing is forbidden. It’s not on the horizon. I don’t need to think about it.’

Vic kept his own counsel. He knew where this was going to go. Armie would fuck Timothy and he would have to decide how to deal with it when it happened. The same level of denial he had given previously to acknowledging his sexual needs was very apparent now. It was of course bullshit that nothing was forbidden, what he meant was that he knew what the penalty was and if he was found out, it did not mean that he had to leave the priesthood. There were options.

‘Look I need to get back, I’m cold. Are you going to sleep on our sofa or you going to get an Uber?’

‘Uber.’

Armie got out his phone.

‘Where did you get that?’

‘He bought it for me.’

‘Right. Armie how deeply are you into this guy?’

‘I won’t give him up.’

He booked his driver. Vic waited with him and saw him into the car. Vic walked back into the hotel, it was nearly two, time for his bed. He was glad he was just a straight up normal guy, girlfriend, good job, lovely family, no aberrations. His life was easy compared to Armie, Armie not only needed God’s help, he needed someone on his side there were going to be some tough times ahead.

> Don’t mess on your own doorstep

Vic’s text made perfect sense. He had already decided to make his confession at a chapel out of the way from the school. He wasn’t being deceptive, it was allowed. He would make confession and take whatever punishment was meted out. If he confessed at St Andrew’s then he laid himself open, he might be sent away, the Pastor might feel it necessary to discuss it with him, might think that he could offer advice and that Armie might take it. He didn’t want advice what he wanted was to be left alone, do what was required, and move on.

He got undressed and went into the bathroom, ran a shower, a cold one. It removed any lasting remnant of desire, his head clear, he went to bed. The phone beeped. He picked it up and turned the sound off. Another text message, this time Timothy. He was half scared to look at it.

> I miss you. I want you. Now go to bed. 

There was a Spanish evening service the next day at St. Joseph’s, he’d go on his way back to the Priory. He would be leaving School late, he would eat at the Junction, then go on there. The day at School ran like he was in fog, everything got done but nothing was paid attention to. His mind wandered off at odd moments of the day, tiredness and pictures in brain were constant distractions.

‘What’s the matter Armie, you aren’t quite yourself?’

The school secretary Sara was the school’s mother, she mothered everyone even the Principal. She noticed when a friendly touch or word was needed. She caught Armie in the kitchen after lunch. He had gone in late, he had a class on basic philosophy with Grade at eleven and had already prepared the material, it wasn’t new, but it was their introduction to Philosophical ideas. He taught the material but he wasn’t fully on it. When the class had ended he was glad, he had tried very hard to concentrate but as soon as he had set them an exercise to work in groups, he went and sat at his desk and recalled every key moment of the evening before. The buzzer to mark the end of exercise came and took him out of his reverie. He took an early lunch, he’d bought it on the way in, sat in a corner with a metaphorical do not disturb sign over his head, had a bible in his hand and a fork in another. He read through all the verses and psalms about forgiving one’s self, and took a special comfort in Psalm 103:

**8 **The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger, and plenteous in mercy.

**9 **He will not always chide: neither will he keep his anger for ever.

**10 **He hath not dealt with us after our sins; nor rewarded us according to our iniquities.

**11 **For as the heaven is high above the earth, so great is his mercy toward them that fear him.

**12 **As far as the east is from the west, so far hath he removed our transgressions from us.

**13 **Like as a father pitieth his children, so the Lord pitieth them that fear him.

**14 **For he knoweth our frame; he remembereth that we are dust.

After he read this he took his spoon and cup to rinse them out. Sara came alongside.

‘You look tired, get an early night tonight.’

‘I will.’

‘Don’t do anything, rest. Read a book, have a glass of wine and go to bed.’

‘Thanks Sara. That’s what I plan to do.’

His phone beeped.

‘Sorry, going look at this and then go for a walk, perhaps that will help.’

One thing was learnt. As much as he was calm and ordinarily collected, Timothy had set a fire under him that was not going to be quenched. His body was playing the fool with him, he felt nascent rising and was glad he had prepared by wearing appropriate tight underwear. The night had been difficult, the shower had helped but he was woken a couple of hours into sleep aroused and no means of resolution. He knew that it was normal, but now his body had been awoken and sought completion. He had got up and prostrated himself on the floor naked and cold until he had regained control of himself. He had then slept through to his alarm but he felt tired and shaken. He had managed to get an extra hour in bed and avoided everyone else in the Priory, but he knew he could not avoid them that evening, he could retire to his bed on the premise of tiredness, but as he hadn’t been in the night before, he would be expected to at least pass a few words around. He wasn’t looking forward to it. There were violet creases under his eyes, and an unfocussed manner about him, and then he thought about the Reconciliation. He would have to make some notes, just to clarify his thoughts and to be clear what he needed to talk about. Yes, after the late class he would have time, then continue them at the Junction. He had a full afternoon at School, one class of beginner’s Spanish, a mixed group for Religious Studies 1 and an advanced group for Religious Studies 2. Not only was he studying intermittently at post graduate level, he was finishing his NAPCIS teaching qualification, it was nearly done, most of the project on his experience had been written. He had a lot on his plate. At the moment it seemed almost too much.

>What are you doing?

<I am a mess, Timothy

>Why?

Why? What a stupid question.

<You know why.

A red cheeked smiley followed.

>I meant it. I miss you. When will I see you again?

<I don’t know. This is difficult. I’ll call you.

Difficult didn’t come close to describing how he felt now. He could remember how Timothy looked after they had been kissing for a while, his skin flushed, blooming red lips, how plush and soft they were, how he wanted to suck on them indefinitely, how his body felt, he had kept his hands upwards on his chest and back but their lower halves had been pressed together and he had felt how aroused they both were. How aroused he was now becoming. He got up and went out for his walk.

‘Want company?’

He couldn’t help it certain words went through his mind. Company was far from his mind, he needed solitude.

‘If you don’t mind, I’m going to take the time to kind of meditate. I didn’t have a restful night. I just need some time to centre. We can go out for a walk tomorrow Sukie, how’s that?’

‘Sure, you just looked a bit done with life, I thought you might want to talk or at least just have a body beside you.’

Then he felt guilty, two people had taken interest in his care and he hadn’t appreciated their concern. This was unlike him. He turned to Sukie.

‘You are very kind, I just need some alone time OK?’

The concern showed in Sukie’s face, she had an inkling, but did not put that in her face.

‘Not a problem. If you ever want to just talk, I can do that. We are friends Armie, that is what friends do for each other.’ She patted his arm and let him go off for his walk.

He felt better when he returned. Tired, composed, and resigned.

His classes went better, he felt more right. He made some notes to elucidate what he wanted to say at the Reconciliation, read through them at the restaurant and set off early for the service.

When he got there he spent a few moments to himself and hid away to the side towards one of the chapels. He’d taken off his Jesuit tie and was wearing a pair of nondescript grey trousers, plain white shirt and bland sweater, he only stood out because of his height. He was capable of hiding, his good looks not heightened. He’d checked who was officiating on his way in, if it was someone he’d spoken to he would attend the service but forgo the confession. The implication was making him nervous. Luckily, Father Jonas was assisting and would be hearing the sacrament of Reconciliation, he didn’t know him, he ran the risk that some of the parents from the school might be there, but this was unlikely given it was a mid-week service held at 8.00pm. He stood a chance. There were only a few people there, the sacraments would run for an hour before the shortened service, with luck he might be home by nine. He sat at a pew near the confessional box, there was only one other person in front of him. Then it was his turn. He placed a placatory hand on his chest and breathed deeply, and went forward. It had to be done.

‘Bless me Father, I have sinned. It has been 10 days since my last confession’

‘Confess your troubles. If you can say when these things happened that would be good it is not necessary, take a moment if you wish, we have time.’

‘I am a brother priest, and I kissed another man. Well I am in training, a Jesuit, I have several more years to complete. I know this is not acceptable, I ask for compassion and understanding.’

The atmosphere changed.

‘Were you coerced?’

‘No. I willingly took part.’

The priest took a moment.

‘You know that the Lord will forgive you if you are truly sorry. He loves and cares for you. He would wish you to do the thing that is right and that will help you keep from doing this again. I think you need to consider how you found yourself in this situation, and whether it is possible to avoid it again. Can I ask you a few more questions? Was this your first time?’

‘Yes.’

‘How well do you know this person?’

‘I have met him only a few times, but we have been communicating for a while using a smart phone.’

‘Do you still have the phone? You might consider removing his contact details or selling or giving away the phone. How did you find yourself in this compromising situation?

‘We met for dinner, and then we went back to his apartment.’

‘Why did you go…Was this the first time you went to his apartment?’

‘I was upset, we had talked over dinner and I began to realise what I had got myself into. He invited me.’

‘What did you intend doing there?’

‘I did not have any intentions. I just wanted…We were talking and one thing lead to another.’

‘Did you have the chance to leave before anything happened.’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you see this man again?’

Armie was stymied for an answer, he didn’t want to lie.

‘Answer me, will you see this man again?’

‘Yes.’

‘I cannot fully absolve you if you intend repeating this behaviour.’

‘I don’t know that I can do this without help…or forgiveness…that is why I am here. I want to follow my vocation, but I know I need support for that.’

‘I think you need some private sessions. The number is on the noticeboard. I am Pastor Jonas. I can help you. I have experience in these matters, I’ve helped other members of our community to deal with feelings which have arisen in the course of their work in Christ. I can talk more freely with you in a private session, might be best if you make an appointment? I want to keep you on the right path, I can’t do this in the confessional box or in one session. You need a series of meetings to help you understand why you are doing this and to help you work out what tenets to follow in order to follow the righteous pathway. I need to repeat I cannot fully absolve you unless you truly believe that you can overcome this impulse.’

‘I do intend to overcome and control this.’

‘Pray the Rosary, do it here whilst the service is on. Don’t take communion. You can sit in Little Mary’s Chapel, you won’t be disturbed. And attend the Holy Hour Adoration this Friday, don’t take communion but join the Eucharist celebration. Then before your mass on Sunday, before you go into church say Ten Hail Marys. You need to do these knowing that you are absolved but that you have work to do to get to a place where you won’t fall into error again. I know it is Wednesday, but you should do the Thursday service and the Luminous Mysteries on the Rosary tonight, if you don’t finish them all tonight, finish them tomorrow morning before you go out. And book that session, even if you don’t want to meet with me and prefer someone you know, please book it, get the support you need. Now go in peace, love and serve the Lord, know that he loves and aspires for you, don’t beat yourself up. Be brave. Bless you.’

‘Thank you Father, thank you for your support and blessing. Thank you for your understanding and kindness, I promise to go forward with commitment to working through this and seeking God’s forgiveness. I will carry out my penance with grace and full understanding, it is not something I take lightly.’

He did not book the private session.

He took particular care with the Rosary, staying to complete the prayer, the holy hour adoration service would take place later in the week on Friday at 5.30pm, and he would attend that, he might have to ask Sukie to cover his last session, but he should have plenty of time. He would be absolved by the time it was Sunday and then he could partake of mass safely.

The time before and the service itself covered the time he needed and he took some minutes after the service had finished when the church was clearing to finish what he had to do. If needed he could pray again in the morning before his working day started, he was satisfied. For the period between now and his next meeting with Timothy, he would not call it a date, he would scourge himself, simplify his life to the bare essentials, that mean restricting food, early rising and limit his presence in company. At the beginning of the service, there were a few minutes joint silence so everyone could gather themselves and get into a tranquil place, the service was to be simple and quick, a chant by one of the congregation, a prayer, reading, psalm, homily, hymn, an uplifting reading from the bible, a prayer and then the Eucharist followed by farewell and blessing, nothing untoward and though he was separate from the crowd, he was one of the congregation, he relaxed whilst working through the penance, his cares left him. As promised, he felt immediately better, and looked forward to seeing Timothy again.

>Next time I am paying, and choosing the restaurant.

He purposefully choose a date two weeks ahead, and this time selected Tuesday. He had no classes the following morning and was prepared now for any consequences.

<Come to mine, I’ll cook you dinner.

>I’ll come to you, but I’ll cook. You can buy the wine.

The days wound by, some slow some fast, and then as the day approached and came, ran dragging until night arrived. It was a clear early Autumn day, early October before the cool evenings really appeared, a day on the turn, like his feelings, he knew that something precious awaited him. He knew where he was headed and it felt right.

He wore nothing special, a pair of dark navy chinos, one of his new blue shirts, a grey v-neck sweater he had had some time. He had had his hair cut, at the weekend, it fell softly over his forehead, as he waited at the door of the apartment building he brushed fingers through it, the buzzer sounded and he pushed the door and entered the building, up to the Timothy’s floor, only one flight, into the corner.

Timothy opened the door, like a prize gifted him in some other alternative universe. Armie dropped his bag of shopping inside the door, kicked it shut, rushed to him, enfolded him and kissed him.

‘Nice welcome.’

‘I missed you too. I never said but…well…anyway…time is short…I don’t know where I am going with this…’

Armie gazed into his eyes, kissed him again.

‘OK, show me where everything is. I need you to be my sous chef. Are you good with a knife?’

‘No. I’ll sit and watch, I don’t cook. My Mom cooks for me sometimes, or leaves me frozen leftovers. She has a key, sometimes she drops by when I am not here.’

Armie froze.

‘Does she know?’

‘Of course. I tell her everything.’

‘What?’

‘Yes. Of course she knows about you Armie. You mean a lot to me. I am not hiding what I feel. I haven’t told everyone. My sister knows, Polly saw one of your messages on my phone, I didn’t tell her who you were, but she knows I have a beau.’

He purposefully gazed into Armie’s eyes, made his point. Armie blinking, but carrying on listening trying not to show he’d heard what he had heard.

‘My Mom met you remember, she is very sharp, she took one look at you and knew how things would be. She is not just sharp she is compassionate and a witch, she knows things. I don’t have to explain anything to her. I am not an open person Armie, I have to be able to access my feelings in my work but I don’t give away anything private, whatever you see of me in media is my work persona. What you see in front of you is the real thing, I would not jeopardise my privacy, your privacy, or what may come for anything in the world. I know and respect that you have a public life too, one which you would not spoilt by rumour or conjecture. We both have a lot to lose.’

‘But you said you were out?’

‘I did, but I know how to go underground and my team know how to play things, don’t believe everything you see, half of it is bullshit, the rest composed to present a view of what may or may not be true. Anyway, I am not that famous. Nobody is looking for me or at me, yet. In the meantime, trust nothing unless you hear it from me or you see it for yourself. Know what you are getting into. Know that I care about you, I won’t place you at risk.’

‘The only person I have been fully honest with is my brother Vic, he understands. I don’t think he fully approves but he will stand beside me, he knows how important it is to me to have someone around who won’t judge and will be on my side with advice and support. I have to tell you now that we will spend a good deal of time apart. I will suffer penance for whatever we have, I won’t give up my vocation, that means periods of separation and pain. Desire unmet and time spent longing. Do you understand what that means?’

‘I think so. Let’s not waste time.’

Timmy came forward, and wrapped his arms around Armie.

‘Will you let me fuck you?’

‘I don’t know…’

‘If not now, later?’ Armie dipped his head in acquiescence.

‘Well in that case, I can wait, it will be worth it.’

He stroked Armie’s back, and rested a hand at his waist, pulled him close and spoke into his ear.

‘What’s for dinner?’

‘I have some tuna, wild rice and salad, some chocolate and some figs. Sorry it’s not a balanced menu, but…

‘They are all things I have said I liked…’

Timothy put his arms around Armie’s neck and gently kissed him open mouthed, an invite, go as far as you want.

Armie took up the invite and sealed Timothy’s mouth with his. Tongue delving into velvet comfort, tasting and testing Timothy, he plunged further in and Timothy pressed himself against Armie, one arm hooking Armie’s neck the other travelling down over his chest, feeling, a thumb lingering over a nipple, and then downwards and round, squeezing Armie’s ass. Armie’s leg shook with the embrace, then steadied. He spoke through his body, this is OK, he shifted slightly so that their fronts were now aligned, and stood as Timothy moved his body so that it brushed continuously, never still, Armie shivered now fully aroused.

‘Hey, what do you have for me Armie?’

Timothy opened his eyes to find Armie staring at him through the kiss. He closed his eyes and kissed him again. This time he placed an arm around Armie’s waist and pulled into him, the other arm went round his shoulders, he created a space for himself in the hollow of Armie’s body and Armie accepted him.

Several kisses later, Armie pulled away.

‘I have to make dinner.’

‘You don’t have to…’

‘Aren’t you hungry?’

‘Not really, we have other things we can be doing…’

‘I am hungry. You can eat what you can eat.’

Armie went into the kitchen area of the large room. Timothy could tell this was his way of settling, bringing his body back under his control.

‘Where are your utensils?’

‘What do you need? I have a knife, and some other things. I don’t cook, look in the draw…over there…’

‘Where are the pans? Do you have a frying pan or a skillet?’

Timothy looked at him bleakly. The feeling of the moments before dissipated.

‘Timothy, there’s nothing to cook with.’

‘I told you, there are better things to do.’

‘I need some food. I haven’t eaten since lunchtime. I was looking forward to cooking for you.’

‘I don’t care about that, I just wanted your company.’

‘Let me see what I can do, is there a store near here? We will have to eat late. The rice is partially cooked, the salad is already made and the tuna won’t take long to cook. I just need some sunflower oil and seasoning.’

‘You’re serious.’

‘Yes I am.’

‘Come on.’

Timothy picked up his keys from a side table. Armie checked his inside jacket pocket and extracted his wallet, pulled out twenty dollars and his bank card.

Timothy took him out of the building and down a block, there was a friendly local store run by an Asian family, Armie walked around the store, picking up the things he needed,and Timothy came very close to him, draping an arm across his shoulders. They looked like boyfriends, it felt good, their bodies cleaving to the other. As they left the store, Timothy slipped his hand into Armie’s and Armie clasped it back.

‘There will be a time when I can’t do this, make the most of it.’

‘I shouldn’t be doing this at all…’ Armie turned soft eyes onto Timothy. ‘I would kiss you if I could.’ Was all he could add.

Armie made short work of cooking the food, in about twenty minutes it was ready.

‘Shall we eat here? Or on our laps in front of the TV.’ Here, was a pull down table at the end of one of the worktops.

‘Let’s eat in front of the TV, but don’t put it on. Can we listen to some music? I have a recording of that Brahms Requiem. It was done for the choir, so it isn’t perfect sound.’

‘That doesn’t matter, what have you got it on?’

‘Spotify.’

‘You don’t use Apple Music?’

‘No.’

‘Doesn’t matter, give my your phone.’

Armie feigned reluctance.

‘Perhaps I have something on there I don’t want you to see.’

‘Really?’

Timothy put his plate on the ground. Armie copied him, then looked to see where he had left the phone. It was on the side table next to Timothy’s keys, and he told Timothy who went to the router and linked Armie’s phone, when everything was sorted they sat back down and listened to the music whilst eating the rapidly cooling food.

‘This is delicious Armie, you’re a really good cook.’

‘Thank you.’ Armie kissed him.

‘I could get used to this.’ Timothy sighed.

Let’s just lie down for a few moments let the food digest.’

‘Lie where?’

‘Just here, swing your legs up.’

‘Wait, your sofa isn’t long enough or big enough for both of us.’

‘OK, you sit up and I’ll put my head in your lap.’

They managed to find comfortable positions.

Armie started stroking Timothy’s hair.

‘That’s nice.’

‘So, let me find out some more about you. Were you popular at school?’

‘No.’

‘Why?’

‘I just wasn’t.’

‘Did you not have any friends?’

‘Some, not a lot.’

‘Still see any of them?’

‘Just Jon. He was sympathetic.’

‘Sympathetic?’

‘Church. He was also Catholic. He understood why I wanted to go into the priesthood. He was Catholic but not a regular church goer, he just got it.’

‘Did you like him.’

‘Do you mean did I ‘like’ him?’

‘Yes.’

‘No. No reason for you to be jealous.’

‘Was it really only Carl that you had a crush on?’

‘Yes. There were other boys that I looked at, but he was the only one I really wanted to do things with, or to…’

‘Really? What did you want to do to him.’

Armie fell quiet again.

‘You always do this.’

Silence reigned.

‘OK. You don’t want to talk about it. What’s the deal with your brother?’

‘He’s my best friend, I trust him. He’s the only one who doesn’t want anything from me. I can be completely honest with him and he is honest with me. It wasn’t always like this. When we were young he used to terrorise me.’

‘He’s older right?’’

‘No. He isn’t.’

Now Timothy was jealous. He felt he should have that place. He was going to be petty and he didn’t care.

‘Care to tell me where I fit in?’

Armie turned his full stare for the first time on Timothy. Timothy didn’t like it, got up and proceeded to give full vent to his feeling.

‘I have gone to a lot of trouble to make things convenient for us. I was the one who sent you my journal entries, set up the accounts, wrote to you first, invited you out. Twice. I compromised myself for you and you tell me that your brother is your best friend and that you trust him above everybody else.’

Armie was amazed. It didn’t mean that he didn’t have feelings for Timothy, he was just telling the truth. And then he realised, he wasn’t alone anymore.

‘Are we dating?’

‘You can’t date. You’re a priest remember…’

Timothy looked into his face for a reaction.

‘Yep. I am a priest. I made vows. Well I am on the way to being a priest not quite one yet, anyway, are you jealous? Why?’

Now it was Timothy’s time to be struck dumb. He didn’t want to be the first to commit. Armie was the one who didn’t know anything, he was supposed to fall for him and capitulate. Do what he wanted, what he needed.

‘How long have I known you?’

Timothy began to sulk. The face changed, the lip curled up, the eyes slid around Armie’s face looking for effect.

‘Are you sulking?’

‘How can he be first?’ This was truculent and in a raised voice.

‘I have known him longer that you. I have loved him longer than you. He only has my best interests at heart. I trust him because I know him and I know he is consistent, and he wants to help me. That doesn’t mean that the opportunity won’t arise between us.’

‘It won’t because at some point, you are going to dump me.’

‘You don’t know that.’

‘You have a vocation. You keep telling me.’

‘Why are you with me?’

Timothy heard ‘with me.’

‘Are you _with_ me?’

‘I am Timothy. And It might destroy my career. It won’t destroy my vocation. I am trying to have both which might be crazy. This is how it is. There is no need to be jealous of my brother. He is family. What I have with him cannot be the same as I have with you, I have arrived with him, we are on a separate journey and I don’t know where we are headed, but we are headed in the same direction and we are going there together. Was that obtuse? Let me make it clear. I am very interested in you. I do want you. I am not going to dump you or stop seeing you. Is that clear enough?’

‘No.’

Armie’s stare returned.

‘I know you like me cos’ you are giving me your death stare.’

Timothy was happy. He crawled onto the sofa and then onto Armie.

‘Show me how much you like me?’

‘I have to go back, if you start with that…’

Timothy crawled further up, and straddled Armie. Armie’s breath grew short.

‘I am not going to fuck you tonight…but you are going to fuck me…at some point’

Armie tried to put Timothy away from him.

‘We have to talk about this.’

He swung his legs down, and placed them firmly on the floor. It made no difference Timothy held on tight and pushed down on him.

‘I can’t sleep with you.’

‘Yeah I know.’ A chuckle.

Armie glanced at him, he couldn’t trust him. Timothy’s eyes were glazed over, he wasn’t interested in what Armie was saying, he had other intentions.

‘I am not going to sleep with you. I told you that already. Just let me kiss you.’

Preparing himself body stuttering back rigid. A body wrapped around him lifted shirt stroked skin sweater goes shirt undone.

Timothy looked into Armie’s eyes. The pools of blue were deep deep black.

And pulled his lower lip into his mouth and bit hard sucking gently until it stopped hurting, lip burning kissing mouth open swollen Armie on edge body roused mind wavering what was being good understanding now what was being bad thoughtless breathless waiting licked nipped neck something on neck back into being fingers slid on nipples pinching hard sucking sore groaning was that me? legs sliding legs pressed open trouser coming undone he had to look.

‘Let me see it.’

Armie stayed his hands.

‘I can’t.’

‘Let me touch it. Please Armie.’

Hard. Fully mitigatingly hard. Never come through touch. At night sometimes he would harden remembering kisses and tentative touching, but this was different. He had Timothy’s body, skin and smell all around him, he was craving touch, he had to speak.

‘I don’t know how to…’

‘You’ll learn. How do you think you will find out what you like me to do unless you let me do it to you? You can touch me too, if you want. I want to touch you. Taste you…suck you.’

Armie wavered between disgust and pure lust. The little devil on his shoulder spoke and decided. Let him suck you.

‘OK’

A defence mechanism. If he let Timothy do this to him, then he would not be committing the sin. He began to work through possible scenarios, not solving anything, realising he was untruthful and too distracted to put together coherent thought. This was sinful and he was going to pay.

Timothy was on his knees and pulling open the belt.

A different consideration. A moment of clarity. Perhaps he could go to another church, confess somewhere different.

The belt undone, pulled through and off.

Armie began to pray, changed his mind, began a session of mindfulness, that was worse. He had to concentrate on what was happening to him and hear and feel and be in the experience, and that was worse because now he wanted it.

Then the zip was fully pulled down. A hand on top, a hand pressing, a hand below, a hand inside.

He could feel himself spring forward, soft gentle skin holding him, a gasp. Was it him?

He looked down, Timothy looked up at him and smiled, it wasn’t a nice smile, it was the smile of one who has obtained his prize and for whom nothing was going to stop him enjoying it.

Armie went back to ruminating on what he was going to do. He would have to book those private sessions…if he just allowed himself this, then he could pay penance couldn’t he? He began to trade in his mind. He knew the penance for kissing, once he got the penance for this, that would serve him for a while…

Then Timothy put his mouth on him.

Oh. Fuck.

Voicelessly he began apologising to himself. The internal voice began a volley of different lines from different prayers, he tried to shut it off. It wouldn’t stop. Relentless. Assuaging. Guilt. Then silence.

Because when Timothy took the dick into his mouth and sucked it like a lollipop, mouth round, gripping and pulling, tongue tip in the slit, then round, then round, licking, mouth slurping, tongue curved and caressing, he lost his mind.

Armie’s head went back. He could not believe the sensation, without thinking he opened his legs and widened his hips. He was hard, rigid and sticking straight out. He put his hands on Timothy’s shoulders and watched as Timothy sucked him into his mouth, and down and down into his throat. He began to whimper. Timothy drew off, the sound as intoxicating as the feel, suckling, wet, hard and then sweeping, pre-come rising and weeping, suction, heat from inside of the mouth internally smooth, velvet textures, tongue rubbing the delicate skin, his cock was enveloped in cool air but he wasn’t cold. Strange. Anticipating...is this what it feels like inside a body? He could now understand why people swore. So many competing sensations. No time for thought, head blown. The heat, and then a gathering, the base of his cock began to draw, pull and stretch, so this was it, and then the sudden rush, he didn’t want to control it he sat back as his orgasm rushed up through his body, the whole body. And Timothy sucking, sucking gently, was he done? Where was his release? Realisation. Timothy’s face coming up to him, eyes bright, mouth empty, tongue swiping lips, body forward, holding his cock tenderly with fingers soft…that was sore…no…not sore the skin was very alive, too alive, too much, but there was more there, he looked down, more pearly liquid, Timothy laughed and returned, suck, suck, sucking, until he had no more to give, and yet his body had not given up, deep pulsing, bowels soft, ass open. This was how it felt. It was worth it. He rested his head on the back of sofa and brushed a hand across his face.

His body was alive and lived of it’s own. He was possessed.

Timothy sat back on his haunches and watched him. He had watched how Armie had fallen apart and was watching him come back together. He understood. The body was miraculous. From lucid thought through loss of mind back to coherency. He sensed Armie have that internal argument, then trust himself and then trust his body and he was the cause. He was connected to him. Timothy was something to Armie and Armie was something to Timothy.

He placed a hand on Armie’s knee and drew circles.

‘Are you OK Armie? Do you need anything?’

And Armie thought I want you to do that to me again.

A couple of weeks later.

They went to the cinema, the film that Timothy had been in, and sat in the back, drinking cola, eating popcorn and giggling. And went back to Timothy’s apartment and the same thing happened and Armie did not Reconcile and he did not tell Vic. He was saving up punishment, because he knew it would come but for now, for now peace and pleasure, that was all he needed.

‘You are in a very good mood recently. What are you up to?’

‘Nothing. Same old same old.’

‘Why don’t I believe you?’

‘You better believe me.’

Sukie knew something was going on. Armie’s disposition had altered, his occasional belligerence had gone. He was very even tempered, and taking an active part in socialising with other members of staff, he even joined them sporadically for a drink after evening events or parents’ evenings. She could also wait, she knew that at some point he was going to need all the friends he could get. Let him be happy for now. He looked like he was in love.

Pastor Enrique couldn’t quite pin down the change, but noticed that something had made the young man different. He was older, he had a life before the priesthood, he knew what it looked like. But this couldn’t be true. So he tried to find out, he took time to talk with Armie, drawing him in because he saw that light rise up in him, knew when he had met with his lover, saw his hesitancy when someone drew near physically, watched his mind wander into the soft smile and easy behaviour, his body relaxing in memory. Then at times cautious not overly friendly, perversely more available as if to hide in his higher visibility. The Pastor invited him into the library to discuss homilies and sermons, asked Armie to talk to the youth group, involved him, reducing the time he had free. Armie engaged, he knew that he and Timothy could not have a normal relationship so meeting him was special, something to be savoured and protected. If that meant he had to hide their meeting then he would, he decided not to create events or people, no deceit he took time out and said he was going to see a film or a concert or just going ‘out’. He knew that he was going to Hell, but not yet. He would not lie but neither would he tell. The Pastor pressed got nothing out of him, and continued watching, the time would come. Armie did everything that anyone asked, and when asked why he was being so amenable, he would just say: ‘Why not?’

And Timothy revelled in having him when he could, he taught him things, not just sexual but just how to be. The joy of silence in a lover’s company, the knowledge that someone was waiting for you, just for you. How to manipulate that person, in kindness and in mischief and then wait for them to catch on.

Will asked him specifically.

‘Who are you seeing? He’s not really available is he? Is he married?’

It was a good alias.

‘Yes.’

He wasn’t lying. Armie was very clear. He was married. To Christ and to the Church. It was not something he would give up, one way or another he was going to have his cake and eat it, even if it stuck in his gullet.

‘Why are you wasting your time? There are plenty of men out there who would die to have you as their boyfriend. Your life would be simple, you could see him when you want. You wouldn’t have to hide him or share him.’

And that was the only thing that hurt Timothy, they did not hide in corners but in front of everyone. They could disappear when in a crowd, when they were alone on a street danger ran beside them. They did not hide from others, they had to be sly because they were not known in preparation for the future. It was just a question of time before they were caught or nearly caught or covered up. He wouldn’t let that happen. He knew how to hide and he taught Armie. Some things Armie knew already, keep your confidante circle small, be nice, be kind, only give as much information is required to make the other person feel comfortable. Don’t tell lies. And be consistent in your behaviour people do not like surprises.

‘He is worth it.’

‘How long have you been seeing him?’

‘A few months.’

‘How old is he? What does he do?’

Timothy remembered the rules, don’t lie, limit the information.

‘He’s thirty, he’s a teacher.’

‘Well, I now understand why you can’t be seen with him…hey…it’s not that lecturer?’

‘Lecturer?’

‘Don’t fuck with me Timothy. It’s Armie isn’t it? The priest?’

Timothy shut up shop.

‘OK. You know I remember. You gave up Paul for him. You are crazy. OK…I know the rules. I won’t ask you anymore…but when you need help, remember I asked you first. Why does everything have to be like this with you. Why can’t you make your life simple?’

‘Paul left me. I didn’t give him up.’

‘Listen to yourself.’

Timothy went and got another coffee, he had nothing else to offer. It was what it was. Whatever he and Armie had wasn’t going away and it hadn’t run it’s course. Not by any means, there was much more to come and he was going to enjoy every moment.


	8. Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Their relationship moves on, they are learning how to deal with desire.

“Putting things off is the biggest waste of life: it snatches away each day as it comes, and denies us the present by promising the future. The greatest obstacle to living is expectancy, which hangs upon tomorrow, and loses today. You are arranging what lies in Fortune's control, and abandoning what lies in yours. What are you looking at? To what goal are you straining? The whole future lies in uncertainty: live immediately.”

\- Seneca

Armie contemplated, guided by reading Augustine, sex was something that had lead Adam and Eve out of the garden of eden, the body a vessel dictated to by sex, it was disobedient, would not follow logic or goodness when in thrall. His body was not innocent, it knew now what pleasures awaited and it reminded him.

He started to launder his own underwear. Martha asked where it was, he had to say that he didn’t mind doing it, that it was something he had started doing as part of his road to simplicity and a way of building independency. It was this but it was also that he was embarrassed. There were times now when he had to relieve himself, if he didn’t then the day was traumatic; without release he was in constant fear of being seen body in complete disobedience. Days of discomfort, nights not at ease.

‘I can help you with that.’

‘How? I’m not seeing you until Saturday.’

‘Switch over to Facetime.’

‘No.’

‘Chicken.’

‘And I don’t mind being called chicken. It really isn’t appropriate. Remember where I am, who I am. You know the thinking on this type of behaviour. I have control at the moment, if we FaceTime I relinquish control. You can do what you like with me then because I will lose control.’

‘You won’t lose control. You’ll get an erection. You don’t have to do anything with it.’

Armie was blushing.

‘I’m going to bed.’

Timothy laughed.

‘Night, lover.’

The screen went blank. It was no good, he was semi-hard. He went to bed and lay down. Picked his copy of Augustine’s City of God and remembered who gave it to him, that made him harder. He put it down. And picked up a pdf of Gaudium et Spes and ran his eye down the first page to these words:

‘…man is split within himself. As a result, all of human life, whether individual or collective, shows itself to be a dramatic struggle between good and evil, between light and darkness. Indeed, man finds that by himself he is incapable of battling the assaults of evil successfully, so that everyone feels as though he is bound by chains. But the Lord Himself came to free and strengthen man, renewing him inwardly and casting out that "prince of this world"…who held him in the bondage of sin…For sin has diminished man, blocking his path to fulfillment…’

Then his phone buzzed. It was a picture. From Timothy. Timothy naked, hand on his dick. A caption: ‘A Reminder.’

Except it was not a reminder it was new. New to him. Timothy had never shown him. Now he couldn’t rest. He deleted the picture, got up and went to make a cup of hot chocolate. It was ten o’clock, everyone else except probably Martha was in bed.

He was right, Martha was up. A book in hand reading whilst sat at the kitchen table.

‘Are you alright Armie? Do you need anything?’

‘Was going to make some hot chocolate.’ He pulled at his dressing gown. It was modest and revealed nothing. Martha paid no attention to the pulling and discomfort, just got up and got out the pan and some milk from the fridge.

‘Sit down. I’ll make it for you.’

‘I’ll do it…’

‘No. It’s alright, it’s my pleasure Armie. Did I ever tell you about my husband?’

Armie didn’t even know she had been married.

‘No. I didn’t know.’

‘Let me tell you about him.’

She fetched various ingredients, put them beside the stove, put the milk on, turned it down low and sat down.

‘My Christopher was a charmer, he had girls before me and girls after we were married. I didn’t mind. He came home to me. We knew each other when we were babies, he lived the next apartment down. Our mothers, God rest their soul, were on the same ward, we were born more or less the same time. I watched him grow up and leave me, I waited for him to come to his senses. Life was tricky. He went away to work, get away from trouble, learnt his trade…he was a mechanic, got used to doing what he wanted when he wanted. No-one could tell him what to do.

Anyway, he learnt how to be an adult, came back to New York, moved to the Brooklyn – I lived in Little Italy, my mom had a store selling cake. I was a disappointment to her, she wanted me in the store, I worked for the city. He came to see his Mom. I was there. He kept coming back and then he kept coming to see me to say hello he’d say. He would tell me all of his shit. All of it. I never judged him. He was just Christopher, my Christopher, he was always mine, we just didn’t know it. My Christopher, handsome, rough, physical and the softest kindest man.’

She got up and checked the milk. It was bubbling gently. She poured it out, she didn’t want it to boil.

‘I didn’t fall in love with him. I knew him…That is how you know. It is not the time, it is not the duration, it is the quality of connection. I was something with that man before I even knew what it was. You know about this don’t you?’

‘I am not sure I do Martha. I have never been in love.’

Martha looked at him, looked at him like she knew him and didn’t believe him.

‘Do you know why we never had children? I was jealous of his time and his company. I did not want to share him. He was all that I needed, why would I take the risk of losing what I had with him. Attention divided serves no-one. There’s no room for guilt, your love is your love. No one else that you have to give it to. You know exactly where you are. Sensible eh?

Everybody knows what love looks like, how can you say you have never been in love? I don’t believe you. Everyone has been in love.’

She finished making the hot chocolate, a couple of spoons of chocolate powder, real chocolate and a big spoon of full fat cream.

‘Taste that. It’s hot, don’t burnt your mouth.’

He did.

‘A little bit of sugar.’

‘You don’t need sugar.’

‘Why did you ask me?’

Again Martha fixed him with a look.

‘If you argue like that you don’t keep lovers. You have to learn how to shut up.’

Armie was stunned into silence.

‘That is how I kept my Christopher. I was ‘never mind’ with him. He knew when he done wrong, he would come to me and in his way apologise. And I would curse him and he would have to fend for himself, and I wouldn’t talk, he would get his dinner in silence and his washing done but not ironed, I’d find ways to spite him. Everything that he needed, nothing that he wanted. Then I would fuck him good. And he was grateful.’

She held him by his eyes.

‘Capeesh? Now go back to bed. And sleep.’

Armie was flustered. Martha had him. He remained in his chair.

‘Go on. Go to bed. Do you want me to wake you? What do you want for breakfast? Special treat.’

Armie was silent. Many thoughts were going through his head. Most of them concerned Timothy.

‘How did you manage the guilt Martha?’

‘Guilt is for fools. It never solved anything. Now. What do you want for breakfast?’

‘A fried breakfast? I don’t know…anything you care to make me. What time…’

She stroked his hair, and rested a hand on his shoulder, squeezing him gently.

‘Make the most of your life Armie, it is very short and you never know when it might be taken from you. People will try to tell what to do, only you know what is right for you and the person you love. And don’t let anyone come between you. It is very precious to have that kind of love. I would have killed for my Christopher. It was a treasure beyond rubies.’

She laughed.

‘And now it is really time for bed.’

Armie got up to wash up the few things.

‘Leave it, just put a little water in the pan. I’ll do it tomorrow morning with the breakfast things. Go to bed…Goodnight Armie.’

‘Night Martha.’

After that night, Armie felt like he had been given permission. He acknowledged he was doing wrong in the eyes of the church and he did confess but directly to God and he prayed for forgiveness and his time was spent in good works, and contemplation, such that it was noticed, his light burned bright and that was noted too. And he started to love Timothy.

Weeks and months passed, somehow they managed to meet more than weekly, lunch, a cup of coffee, between school and going home, dinner dates, even venturing to a bar a few times, catch ups after they had finished their working day, walking home, breakfast, a session on FaceTime on days where they did not meet, if only five minutes to say hello, an hour was sufficient, a day was not enough. And the relationship grew deep, and Timothy still wanted more.

‘I don’t know what else I can give you. I have to find time to meet with you. What do you want?’

‘I want you.’

‘You have me.’

‘I want to be yours completely.’

‘What does that mean…’

Armie knew what it mean. They had fooled around, Armie had learnt to give and to take equally with Timothy. He had suffered greatly the first time he had taken Timothy’s body in his mouth. It was so wrong but something he could not deny his lover. And he enjoyed giving him that pleasure, he enjoyed watching Timothy during their lovemaking, the twist of his face when he came contrasting a still body while he rode out the orgasm. The pulsing vein in his groin, the vein in his neck that sunk when he kissed him, the way his body tensed and then let go in orgasm. He knew all the signs of intimacy. He grew to enjoy sexual oblivion and the fact that each gave the other that. Timothy was a generous lover and had waited for him to be ready, ready to wait for each stage to come and pass and now there was only one left. And he had enjoyed waiting and he had enjoyed giving. But he wanted the commitment of completeness, and he knew Armie was ready, even if Armie doubted he was ready. He started to court him anew.

‘Who ever loved that loved not at first sight?’ Written on a dense off-white card. Silver and black ink.

A bouquet of pure white flowers, heavy with scent, a little handwritten card, with just a letter. T.

‘I would not wish any companion in the world but you’ On heavy pink card, black ink in a flowing cursive hand.

A bottle of elderflower cordial arrived in a gift box. Armie laughed. It was his favourite. The original label had been removed and in its place these words.

‘This bud of love by summer’s ripening breath, May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet’

‘You have to stop. People have noticed.’

Timothy didn’t care.

A pair of Ermenegildo Zegna briefs turned up at the priory. Luckily they came in an Amazon wrapping. Armie blushed deeply when he saw them and texted Timothy immediately.

>I cannot wear those there is nothing of them.

>I know.

They had dinner at Armie’s favourite restaurant, a local steak house, not expensive, homely, they were known and always put in the back away from the crowd. They were eating their steak when Armie felt a foot rising up his leg, finding rest on his cock. It’s purpose evident. He took it off.

‘Don’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s public.’

‘Yeah I know. I’m gonna squeeze you.’

The foot was back, caressing and pressing down. Armie gave in, by the time they were ready to go, he was just holding on. In the cab back to Timothy’s, a hand rested in the same place as the foot, making the same motion, this time with dexterity. And Armie was desperate by the time they got through the door. Timothy left him alone, just asked if he wanted some coffee. Armie was initially confused and sat down body on fire, with growing realisation that he would have to capitulate. But not yet.

The same evening more pictures, unmistakeable pictures, Timothy had more or less thrown him out without any love making, a basic kiss good night and not even a formal walk to the external door which was normal with them. He missed him physically that night. 

Suddenly Timothy wasn’t available, a week went by without meeting, then another.

An IG post, a quote from a young Milton, was his only contact.

The Star that bids the Shepherd fold, 

Now the top of Heav'n doth hold, 

And the gilded Car of Day, 

His glowing Axle doth allay 

In the steep Atlantick stream

And the slope Sun his upward beam 

Shoots against the dusky Pole, 

Pacing toward the other gole 

Of his Chamber in the East. 

Mean while welcom Joy, and Feast,

Midnight shout, and revelry.

Tipsie dance, and Jollity. 

Braid your Locks with rosie Twine 

Dropping odours, dropping Wine. 

Rigor now is gon to bed,

And Advice with scrupulous head, 

Strict Age, and sowre Severity, 

With their grave Saws in slumber ly. 

We that are of purer fire 

Imitate the Starry Quire,

Who in their nightly watchfull Sphears, 

Lead in swift round the Months and Years. 

The Sounds, and Seas with all their finny drove 

Now to the Moon in wavering Morrice move, 

And on the Tawny Sands and Shelves,

Trip the pert Fairies and the dapper Elves; 

By dimpled Brook, and Fountain brim, 

The Wood-Nymphs deckt with Daisies trim, 

Their merry wakes and pastimes keep: 

What hath night to do with sleep?

Night hath better sweets to prove, 

Venus now wakes, and wak'ns Love.... 

Com, knit hands, and beat the ground, 

In a light fantastick round.

‘Do you want some hot chocolate?’

‘Yes please.’

Armie was in agony. He refused to give in to his body.

‘How are things?’

‘So so. Been busy, I’m a bit…tired...’

‘Frustration is a thing. When Christopher had his other women, I used to suffer too…that’s why I made him suffer when he came back…there’s delicious gratification in making other people feel your pain…and they enjoy it too…eventually…guilt can be good…satisfying that frustration after a period of abstinence…oh…weee…I remember those days…a bit of their own medicine never hurts…’

When Armie got back upstairs, he took out the phone, put it back on the side, on the table by the bed. Picked it up, put it back down again. Picked it up and put it on, pressed the camera app, fiddled and got the video working properly after a few goes, turned it onto selfie mode and wide angle and filmed himself taking away his frustration. Posted it on their IG and switched the phone off.

The next morning, there were many messages. He didn’t answer them, saw the number but not what was in them. He switched the phone off again. The iPad had run out of battery. He left both phone and iPad off for a few days. Martha was right it was satisfying and in those days he got himself back on an even keel. Martha met him on the stairs as he was going out to school a week later.

‘Everything OK.’

‘Yes Martha, I may be late this evening, have a social at school and we are going for drinks afterwards.’

He wasn’t lying but he wasn’t being exactly truthful. He had laid in bed that morning reading the variety of texts, posts and emails that his lover had sent him. Culminating in.

>Get your ass round here tonight.

He didn’t respond.

At five Timothy was at the school gate.

‘What is the matter with you? Why have you come to school?’

‘Nobody knows me…I need to see you…I’m desperate. Come round tonight.’

‘Can’t, have a school event. We will finish late, late for school things anyway, and I promised to go for drinks.’

Timothy stormed off. Armie laughed. The biter bit and not liking it at all.

‘Let me in.’

Timothy buzzed him in.

‘Fucker…Get your clothes off.’

He started to pull at him in the doorway.

‘Would be nice to get an Hello, how are you? Would you like a drink? That is how you greet someone. You are very rude.’

‘Shut up. Get in there.’

‘Wait. Since when do we go straight to bed? We have never been in the bedroom.’

‘I am fed up of waiting. Take your clothes off. I am going to fuck you.’

‘You have to get them off me first.’

Armie was wearing the designer pants. He took off his jacket. Timothy stripped him, glimpsed the pants and tore them off, he was bare naked. This was the first time ever that Armie had ever taken off his all of his clothes. Prior to this he had stayed in the main living area and they had messed around on the sofa. Timothy was too in lust to care. He razed him up and down with his eyes. Took in his eyes, his dick, then back to the eyes and dragged him to the bed.

‘I am not even going to kiss you. Get on the bed. Not that way, face down, no, on your knees, it will be easier for you.’

Timothy stood behind Armie variously stroking his dick and pressing a finger into Armie. Armie in turn was trying to work out if he liked this. He thought he could.

‘Open your legs…hmm…have you…’

‘Now you ask me…I showered at school and had a go at cleaning…’

‘That’s all I need to know. I am going to eat your ass.’

Armie gulped.

‘OK.’

It wasn’t good as the first time he got sucked, but he could get used to it and it was enjoyable…well, he liked it…if he was honest…he didn’t see what the fuss was about. Timothy seemed to be enjoying it, so Armie just stayed kneeling on the bed.

‘Don’t you like this?’

‘It’s OK.’

‘Just OK?’

‘I don’t mind it.’

Then Timothy took hold of his dick and started to lick him again, pulling on the dick, licking his ass, pressing his tongue into his hole, swallowing his balls, and Armie lost contact with earth. He wanted to beg Timothy to put something bigger in his ass. He didn’t have to wait long. Timothy went off somewhere and came back a minute later, a moments later there were two fingers in his ass.

‘Put it in.’

‘What?’

‘I can’t say it. Just put it in.’

It hurt. And then it didn’t. Timothy pressed gently and fully in, waited a moment so Armie knew, knew what it was like to feel that fullness, feel his sexual persona being woken, sex being fully evidenced down there, appreciate the sense and sensation, the feeling and then the feel of a dick being slowly pulled out. Armie opened up his ass…that felt good. Timothy added more lube to his dick and pushed himself inside Armie again, roughly, in a rush, waited a second so Armie could experience the gentle burn and began to fuck him while it still felt hot and the nerves were alive. It felt right to Armie, he was comfortable enough to try to get the most out of the experience by slightly moving, feeling the edges of his body trying to get into the right position, that it hurt some more, just enough that he felt alive, alive enough to grip Timothy and enjoy it, his own dick not fully hard, softened after initial foreplay, but he was fully aware and moving in rhythm with Timothy and his cock woke up and grew very hard and he was fully in it.

Timothy carried on fucking him, silent…then not so silent…no words…harsh sounds…o’s and ah’s…heavy breathing…mmm’ing down in his throat…calling his name, calling him names and then pulling out softly again.

‘Get on your back.’

‘Are you wearing a condom?’

‘No. Get on your back. I won’t come in you…unless you want me to…’

Armie obeyed. His body missing Timothy already. He spread his legs.

‘Raise them knees up.’

Timothy lay between them, their cocks tangled and rubbed and Timothy kissed him, kissed him in an old familiar way, tasting him, leaving him a memory. A moment of hesitation.

‘Are you OK Armie, tell me truthfully, does it hurt?’

‘It hurt to start with.’

‘That’s normal. I won’t fuck you long, you have to build endurance…Did you like it?...’

‘…Can I fuck you?’

Silence. Timothy smiling.

‘I see…You do like it…OK.’

Timothy turned over.

‘The lube is over there.’

‘What do I do.’

‘Spread some on your fingers, put a finger in me, move it in and out of my body, I’ll tell you when to add another finger and when to stop.’

Armie followed instructions, and then he was ready and he knew what to do.

‘I going to put it in now. I need to get inside you.’

For the third time in his life Armie was overwhelmed. Once he was calm and seated, he lay on top of Timothy and just took in what it felt like being inside another person’s body, internal body heat, blood pulsing, Timothy’s slight body shifts, the spread of his ass, how his muscles were contracting and then releasing, pushed himself fully inside pushed until he could get no deeper and then overcome by the sensation of being wrapped fully around someone, his body all sensation, skin and air combined to give him full awareness full enclosure, not knowing what to concentrate on, possession of self and the other, and somehow his body took over, and he began to fuck Timothy like he had been fucking him for years. And Timothy’s body acted like it knew how this worked, and could draw what it needed from him. Then they were both lost in it, the fucking superseded mere sex, everything disappeared and went beyond time. There was nothing for them to learn. Reality.

‘Shit Shit…Shit. Oh Christ. Fuck…Sorry…sorry… couldn’t stop…’

He had come inside Timothy. That did get away from him. It wouldn’t happen next time, nor would the swearing…it wasn’t necessary.

Timothy interrupted his thoughts, a soft raspy voice, full of desire.

‘I haven’t finished. Push it back in.’

Timothy rolled on his side, hand behind him on Armie’s ass to bring him with him, to guide him, raised his leg backwards over Armie hooked it behind, pushed close to close the gap, to get skin to skin, and take him fully into his body, took Armie’s hand, placed it on his cock and holding onto both brought himself off to orgasm, paused till he emptied into their hands and then rolled off Armie, who was still hard from Timothy’s orgasm, overawed, and in no position to argue about being separated from Timothy’s body. Timothy rolled over to face him. Armie spoke tenderly.

‘Why didn’t you tell me what this was like.’

It was Timothy’s turn to laugh.

‘You’re an idiot.’

‘Can I fuck you again?’

It was late, gone midnight.

‘Are you going home.’

‘No.’

‘Are you going to work tomorrow?’

‘No.’

‘Then you can fuck me in the morning.’

They spent the next two days in bed.

Armie’s other phone rang several times, he sent texts, something had come up, he’d do what he needed from home, he wasn’t coming back today, a friend in town unexpectedly, he would be in touch. Vague, he did not lie.

He wasn’t teaching, it was an INSET day before a public holiday he wasn’t that irresponsible, but he had a couple of meetings, which he put off, he told Martha that he was spending time with his friend from college. She passed on a message that was sufficiently imprecise enough to not cause suspicion except that Father Enrique was not fooled. He held his tongue, things had a way of resolving themselves, or of being resolved.

Armie returned home on Saturday evening just in time for dinner at seven. He went straight to his room showered and changed, came down for dinner and ate in good company and was good company, open, friendly still not revealing where he had been. Afterwards, Pastor Enrique caught him as he was going back upstairs and beckoned him into the library.

‘When did you last confess?’

After initial shock Armie spoke.

‘Some time ago.’

‘Should you attend the service tomorrow?’

Armie was silent.

‘You must confess before you attend any services. I will understand if you wish to confess at another church. But I will not allow you to take service or participate in service until you confirm that you have confessed and paid penance for your sin.’

Father Enrique did not need to say more. His eyes were soft and understanding.

‘If you wish to discuss anything with me, anything at all, I am here to hear you and I will understand and forgive you, we love you Armie. Remember that we care and that we want you to fulfil your promise, we know your vocation is important to you. And I am here to help you in any way I can. I want to see you become the good priest that I know you will be. I have experience, in my life and in my calling. I have come across many things, I don’t think I will be surprised at anything you may have to tell me. Remember I love you and Christ loves you. Any sin you think you have can be wiped away by forgiveness and true penitence.’

Armie heard him, and thought it is too late. I cannot give him up. He set his face into some semblance of acceptance.

‘Thank you father, thank you for your advice. Thank you. His eyes slid off the Pastor as he went out the room, he went upstairs and texted Timothy and told him he was coming back. Packed an overnight bag with a change of clothes, some wash things and his razor, and left the house.


	9. Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some kind of Reality.

“True happiness is… to enjoy the present without anxious dependence on the future.”

\- Seneca

The next two days were spent like an intense weekend. Sunday and Monday. Armie returned to Timothy late on Saturday night, they had only spent several hours apart. Timothy was not expecting to see him for a long time.

‘What’s happened?’

‘Nothing.’

Timothy knew. And he kept quiet and he sought to know Armie in the time that he would have with him, because he knew the end was coming.

‘Come to bed.’

And they slept wrapped in each other’s arms.

And Sunday morning came and they took each other into their bodies and rose and cleansed and had food. And went to Central Park where the season was changing and the leaves were orange and brown, the air was crisp and the sun was warm. And they felt alive. And it was worth it. And they knew they were on borrowed time, but they did not speak this.

Monday came and the world was happy, it was holiday time but for them time was hanging poignant.

They went for a walk again in Central Park, and ate there and came back late afternoon. It was the down time of the day. Time to consider what to do. What the rest of the week held. But they were silent on this, and edged their story with the future.

‘I start filming soon.’

‘Yes, you told me. When?

‘The 17th.’

‘Sooner than I thought…I might have to go away myself.’

And Timothy truly looked at him and he wanted confirmation, honesty and to say what needed to be said.

‘When will I see you again Armie?’

‘I don’t know.’

And that was enough. They ordered in and Timothy got a bottle of wine and opened it and they retired to bed, and talked of inconsequential things, and the food arrived and they could not eat.

Armie took Timothy into his arms.

‘Will you give me this?’

‘Of course. What do you need?’

‘I want to make love to you.’

‘You don’t have to ask.’

He took Timothy into the shower and cleansed him, then taking soap and his bath sponge washed his arms and legs, wiping between his legs, around his ass, between the cheeks, and as he washed him he spoke of what he was doing and he asked. Asked if he would lift his arms and widen his legs and he stroked and washed him his body not his sex and wiped his ears, and took soap and washed his face and took shampoo and washed his hair. He asked permission to fuck him because he knew he was leaving him but he did not say why. It was in his touch the touch of finding a memory of taking away something to hold onto a driving thing a thing that gives life and reason to carry on. And then he rinsed him with cool water and covered his body to dry him and held him close and wiped his body with cream to soften his skin and add his familiar smell his perfume, the scent that would cling to his own body so that when he went he could carry him with him for however long it lasted. He would not wash on leaving. He washed and Timothy watched him and then left the room to dry his hair and prepare himself. And Armie stepped out of the bathroom and into the bedroom and his lover was laid ready to receive him.

Armie split Timothy’s legs and kissed his inner thighs smooth hairless skin a rising cock. A delicate coloured rose hued cock. Sufficient. Heavy. Remembered how it filled his mouth and hand. The oyster of its taste, the sea of his release, the deeper fecund smell of his ass, a perfume filling his nose a good sensory memory. A visual, aural and physical presence. And he lay on him and kissed him, kissed him every sort of kiss so he could take him away with him. The mouth the ear the eye. His neck the long white neck and he tasted his skin the hollows of his neck his nipples which he took into his mouth and caressed with his tongue and sucked them and his lover groaned and moaned and hissed passive. And he licked the hair under his arm, the hair that he had washed clean and removed the scent and taste thereof and he thought I will come back after I have loved him. And his hands held the cheeks of his ass and he pulled them apart and kissed and licked that hole that was to be his resting place and he curled his tongue and gave him an initial fuck and his lover’s cock rose and grew hard. And he sucked and licked that too. He flicked and he pulled pulled at his balls as he sucked and he sucked and his lover said stop and he said why would I stop and he sucked and sucked and his lover came and he waited waited for the satiation to flow down to slow down and he rolled his lover and he pressed his cock into that hole already prepared for him his lover and he fucked him and he did not care he fucked him selfish and he got out of him what he could fucked pure physical body fucking and he rested and resumed and his lover was overcome and did not complain because he knew and he fucked his lover and he stayed inside him and fucked until he came once one way and then the other until it hurt the hurt replicating a future pain that would come from different angles and the memory of the fuck balm to be stored and revisited balm for a pain that would never die and he rolled his lover and lifted his arm and licked the residue there and so he fully tasted his lover and experienced his body complete to take away with him and he took his lover into his arms and he waited and rested and fucked his lover gently to leave him another memory tender not of pain and rose whilst his lover slept and he took his chance and he left.

Morning came. Timothy woke and he knew that Armie was gone and he found a book lying beside him, the St. Augustine, co-signed ‘with all my love’, and the phone, and Timothy wept.


	10. Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They both have to deal with the outcome. Eyes are being opened, a future is emerging.

  * We step and do not step into the same rivers; we are and are not.
  * How can one hide from that which never sets?
  * To God all things are fair and good and just, but men hold some things wrong and some right.
  * I searched myself.

\- Heraclitus, Fragments

Father Richard greeted him as he came into the priory.

‘Do you wish to reconcile?’

‘Yes.’

Armie told him everything.

Father Richard did not blink. And when Armie had finished, he did not give him penance. He asked him what he thought was fair.

‘Let me walk you through the steps of Reconciliation, Armie. I am not here to judge you. I am here as a representative of Christ and through him of our Lord. Many priests have found themselves in the same situation as you and many do not confess, or, find ways to deceive and lie about their situation. You need to show that you are truly contrite and that you want to repent your sin. Can you remember the steps? We can discount the first, we have been through that one. We don’t even need to follow the seven steps just cover all the points.

Armie, come, sit here beside me. You have confessed the acts, that you did those acts, and how you found yourself in this situation but unless you can find out why, you will find it difficult to not repeat the same errors…I can tell you are in love with this man.’

A tear struggled to fall down Armie’s face, he had gathered himself but he could not speak.

‘And this will be the problem Armie, you are still in love with this person. I don’t need to know who they are because they are not a parishioner. However, the fact is you broke your vow of chastity. There are many things you can promise to do; most of all to vow not to see him again. I say him because I have observed you Armie, you are not given to women. You are polite with them and you treat them with grace and reverence but with men you are open and charming, the difference is appreciable. I trust you with young people because again you are not interested in them. They are a different joy to you. And I know that this person has your heart, and you have given him your heart, and your body. And you have his person very precious to you and close in memory. So I will take the risk that the danger comes only from this one person. I am speculating, if you are going to truly to repent and go forward in faith you need to acknowledge that you love him, and only then will you be able to let him go and come into the Priesthood unencumbered.’

Father Richard knew that this was going to be difficult if not impossible, the best that could be hoped for, is that Armie acknowledged his love and it’s hopelessness, and decide to move on, without this he would have to leave the priesthood.

Armie thought. He put aside ideas of coming short and admitting little, he had to admit it all. Above all to himself. He could lie and prevaricate with others but he was the one who had to deal with this. And that meant that he had to confess almost to himself. Tell himself that this love affair was something in the past and would not be going forward. 

Instead a series of lies came to him, things he could tell himself, things he had to tell other people. Proof. They were not in touch. He was good. He could…had overcome this feeling. A pause. He wouldn’t have to lie would he? Well, he could work towards a truth. Let everything go quiet, play along, if he paid penance, he could…he should… A strategy began to form in his head, cloudy no shape, he just needed time to get it together, to let it form into a coherent trajectory that went straight back to Timothy. He felt devious, it felt attractive. He understood sin. Something was worming its way through, its shape in his mind. A lie of repentence. A curved smile, silent humour. There was a difference, temptation and truth. A Pause. The temptation was in lying. The truth was in his love.

The truth was in his love. His trust was in love, and it came to him, he had to trust in the Lord, he loved God and he loved his vocation. He spoke before the strategy hardened, the truth was in his love.

‘I think I need some time away from here, at the moment it is too close emotionally and physically, and I think I should move from the Priory, into a Jesuit house, in Harlem but in a different area and if one cannot be found in Harlem, then downtown I can start again. It is less temptation.’

‘Armie, it does not matter where in Manhattan you go, you are in easy reach regardless, the work to resolve this must come from you not your circumstances.

I have the gift of a house, one of the current parishioners sometimes helps young men for us, she doesn’t live in. You could stay there. She will ensure you have sufficient to eat but you will need to take care of everything else.’

Armie immediately understood what his penance was to be, fasting and a simple solitary life. He had been dreaming, he had no choice. He would have to clean and do all the maintenance of the house. His food would be basic, sufficient to maintain his body and no more. He would not starve but neither would he have unnecessary things, there would only be have cold food during the week. The bed would effectively be a pallet, his bedlinen basic, there would be no wifi nor a television. He would be living a clerical life, back to basics, no company outside work, no phone or iPad. He could cope. He did not need material things to help him get through, the memories were engrained they would fade but for now they were very strong.

‘I accept this penance Father Richard.’

Thank you Armie, let us pray for forgiveness. I will follow you in repentance. I will adapt my life somewhat to follow you through this period. You will not travel through this journey alone. I will keep you company, know that I am suffering with you.

You will live in the house for six months. We will tell the school that you need to take a sabbatical for six months and during that time you will run the Centre for us.’

The Centre, that was hard work. Now he knew that his work was going to be cut out. He liked working with and for people who were very disadvantaged, but The Centre was for the very poorest and neediest, for people who lived on the street or in dire circumstance; each day there were food runs, the kitchen served basic lunches and three rooms were used to deliver basic medical assistance to the very deprived, all services delivered by volunteers. These medical rooms could be converted to bedrooms when the weather was very bad, but that would mean hiring the right volunteers to stay, clear rooms, protect the building and inhabitants from each other. It was not a big building, not an open house nor full-time accommodation for those who wanted to get off the street and into the warm. The nights were drawing in, who would decide who should have access? Armie had spent two weeks working there when he arrived in Harlem as part of his induction, now he was going to be based there. This was going to be hard. His heart sank further, he knew there would be one more thing. His choices were framed.

‘You will serve in any capacity that Father Enrique chooses on any Sunday, from this Sunday until the end of the six months. You may not make use of the Priory. And you will continue to run any community initiatives you are currently involved in, if you cannot get to or run these initiatives you may get a substitute for the period of your sabbatical.’

There was one community initiative that he had not been involved with some time, Timothy sometimes got involved with the group at Rikers, he would have to declare this, even though he had never run into Timothy during his time of visiting there.

‘He sometimes helps with a group at Rikers, I have never seen him there and I have not been there for months. We have never met, he’s working away for a few months, I am not sure of the exact date of his return but he should be back at the end of November, so back in time for Christmas.’

‘He’s a good man, I understand that Armie, you would not be his friend if he were not.’

Terms of engagement were agreed, essentially no unsupervised contact with anyone unknown to Father Richard, it was to be a solitary simple life and everything was now settled. They turned to prayer, reflection and finally discussion and contemplation on what had lead him into sin.

It had seemed so reasonable. He had to pay penance, he had chosen that he should, everyone was being so helpful.

He did not feel sorry. 

In fact he was angry. He was angry now. Tomorrow was time enough to care, to be calm. He was cycling through emotions. The strategy started to swing round inside his head. He did not think how Timothy would be feeling. Because now was painful and he had to sort himself out. He had no time for anybody else’s feelings. He knew how he felt, it was shit.

He had time now to read religious texts that he was not allowed to read when he was younger. These were advanced texts for people who could read ambiguous theories and remain true to faith. He learnt to dispute doctrine, argue against theory, to see the bible as a religious storybook. He believed but now he did not believe blindly, everything was up for discussion now. A book is written down for man, for man to rule men.

Father Richard would come to visit him at least once a week, to hear him confess and also to give him company, to remind him that he belonged to a community who would not let him go, he had to pay back. The penance was not just individual, it was for the community whose vows he had broken. Not just vows of chastity, it was the promise that he would keep to the code of the community, at the moment he could not. It was hard. The solitude was torturing him. He was busy during the day the Centre was busy almost too busy, he had no time to think about anything other than what was in front of him at the time. Then he would leave at six and the evening crew took over; he was on call but they were experienced and hardly bothered him. He had one or two groups he still helped with, an aid line where he sat on a switchboard and gave advice to parents about schools and dealing with the Education Board, and at another shelter where he didn’t have expertise. It was specifically for those with poor mental health, he was a big guy and he was good with people so they used him like a gentle body guard. And the other nights, well he spent them reading and praying. The centre opened at six for breakfast, he had to be up by five at the latest and in reality four-thirty, so he could get some breakfast himself and walk the forty minutes it took to get there. 

And he did not count on how much he would miss Timothy, the last 48 hours with him had embedded him body and soul. He was a constant presence. He got by initially on four hours sleep a night, and then crashed, regularly sleeping ten hours and waking unrested. After two months he asked Father Richard if he could return to the Priory and was refused. 

‘Armie you are just at the worst point, this is the worst it will be. I have not seen you really come to terms with what this means. It is too soon for you to resolve anything. What is it that you are seeking?’

‘I am not seeking anything…anymore. I think I want to leave the church. I never doubted myself before, now I have doubt. I don’t know how men manage to spend a entire life without satisfying their physical needs. It is unnatural.’

‘You managed for many years. What is it that made you doubt?’

Armie didn’t answer but in his head the same words were going round.

I want him. Where is he? What is he doing? Does he miss me as much as I miss him? I want him.

And pictures of what they did. Pictures of pieces of his body, his arm when it rose to lift his leg and hold his legs open for him, for Armie. The fact that in those three days he became his, he owned that body. Other physical phenomena. Skin. The smell of his ass. Sex.

‘Some things will never go away Armie. You have still not fully acknowledged what you did. It will take time. Longer than the six month penance that you have to pay. You have to find a way.’

It felt just like he was experiencing what Adam and Eve had experienced. He now knew the difference between Ignorance and Knowledge than Innocence and Sin. Before he did not know what else there was to experience, to enjoy, and now to want, that is where problems arose he could see that now. Wanting and needing, and not being able to meet that desire. To not know, and then to find out and realise that what should be deemed beautiful is forbidden. And that was why he lay in bed at night, finding it hard to sleep because the same words and pictures were going round his head, and he consumed them and they fed him. Nourishment for his despair. And he thought of how he used to use prayer to damp down feeling, to trick his mind to fall silent, now he needed to feel this pain and know this was something he had to live through and bear.

‘You’re not helping me. I either need to come back into company or for you to stop your canting. I can live of myself. I have the capacity to do so. I _am_ finding it hard, and part of my getting through it, is to relive it and not deny it. It has happened and I have to get to the end of it and know that I fully lived through it. And that is what is hard. I am not going to deny it or put it away through prayer and contemplation. I need to live through this and that means reliving it every night until it becomes so familiar and so known that I no longer see it. Can you understand that? 

It might be best for you to go.’

Armie left the room and Father Richard to deal with his outburst.

Every night he went to bed and wanted to put his hands on himself and every night he watched the pictures in his head and held his hands to his side until sleep took him off into oblivion. Over time he learnt it was futile to remember, and the time in bed began to mean silence in his head and in his heart, and when an arousing thought went through his head he replaced it with a movement, turning on to his side or holding himself and that moved the thought on. And there came a time when he would sigh and accept and the thought would pass. And he learnt not to dwell on what could not be and accept what had passed and that he was in a new world and Timothy was gone out of his life and now he was free. And that was when he cried for what he had lost.

Father Richard kept his counsel and maintained his vigil, watching as Armie went through the normal stages of grief. He had helped many people, he had seen many ways of dealing with grief and the loss of a loved one and he understood, he did not need to experience he understood and he knew that each experiences their trouble in different ways and some people were able to put their troubles to one side and some never forgot. Armie would never forget and therefore he worried about him. Armie had learnt how to deal with it, he could let the moment pass but the experience never went from him and neither did he want it to, that meant he was vulnerable and liable to fall into error again. He hoped the future would be kind to him, vocation could not overcome pure desire and his man was still out there.

The hours turned into days and the days into weeks and then months and Armie got through.

Father Richard kept coming and Armie talked and talked his way through, coming to terms but never fully accepting. He knew that he would have to talk to Timothy to fully get over this he wanted to apologise, to say why it was impossible to gaze on him without guilt, he knew it was impossible because in his heart of hearts he was not sorry, and he knew that was dangerous.

He got out of the solitary house and back into the Priory and immediately asked for a transfer. Father Richard was not surprised and Pastor Enrique pleased, he did not want to have Armie fall from grace again in his care. They both saw that it would be best for Armie to be away from New York City, his lover was a phone call away, why put temptation in his way?

‘Can you find me somewhere back home please? I can be close to my family and I will have some support from old friends, I can start afresh. I always felt comfortable there. How long will it take?’

‘You could go tomorrow. But I don’t recommend it…you need to go back into a community house with fellow Jesuits, people who are at the same stage as you. Perhaps even back into a seminary. I would like you to go into the right space.’

Armie didn’t need to ask why. To avoid temptation from another source. But he knew that he would not fall into temptation with anyone else but Timothy, it was simple, they were bonded, he didn’t want nor foresee wanting anyone else. They could send him home now.

‘What if I go now?’

‘Armie you will just be going home to sit around until we find you a suitable place, wait, it will only be a few weeks.’

So Armie waited. He stayed on at the Centre and did not go back to the school but he did contact Sukie and asked her to lunch. They arranged to meet the following week, Sukie made sure she had sufficient time to talk with him.

Linda greeted him like an old friend.

‘Hey Armie, how are you ? Long time no see. Where have you been?’

‘Just spending some time away, on sabbatical, some in depth training.’ 

He wasn’t lying that was what it was. An intensive re-immersion. He started to frame his future conversations.

‘I just got back, I feel a bit unhinged, not in a bad way, just not certain of my ground. Anyway, it’s nice to see you. Things OK?’

They had a brief conversation, Armie caught up with some local news, tales of a new manager, the trouble of a new menu and then Sukie arrived. Sukie immediately went to hug Armie, she could feel him relax as she held him close. This was different. Something he missed.

They stood off each other and looked.

‘How are you Armie?’

‘Well, feel a bit strange being back in the neighbourhood but good.’

He remembered that he visited here with Timothy, that really was the start of it. The introduction of the idea of a relationship was made here.

‘’Shall we sit?’

Armie led her to the table, their table, they both sat, there was a moment of silence and then Sukie spoke.

‘We missed you Armie, what happened? Wait don’t say anything lets have that discussion later. Where are you living now? Are you settled? It’s good to see you. You look well.’

‘I’m glad to see you Sukie, I can’t deny it I missed being around people.’

Sukie wanted to ask him why he would say something like that, but she had an inkling that he would not answer her. She wanted to delve, itching to get to the bottom of his absence, but knew that Armie had to come round to speaking it and that it would not be here, so she put it to one side and hoped the opportunity to have a real conversation with Armie would arrive.

‘So where have you been?’

‘As I said on the phone, a sabbatical, just taking some time out. But I was here in Harlem, surprised I didn’t run into you…it’s something I chose to do, it’s occasionally done by priests in training.’

Words nearly left her mouth. Yeah, when they have something they wish to hide. She didn’t realise but her face was speaking the words.

‘Look, I can’t talk about it.’

‘Was it about Timothy?’

A variety of emotions passed over his face, anguish won out.

‘I can’t talk about it here.’

‘OK. Let’s order, have you had a chance to look at the menu?’

Armie was discombobulated.

‘Shall order for us both?’

Armie nodded.

He didn’t have to talk much, he checked in and out of the conversation following it’s flow but he felt left behind, somewhere between that last night and the last day of the his penance. They finished the meal, and Armie paid. Sukie took his arm as they left. He hoped he had got away with it.

‘Shall we go for a walk? I think you need to talk Armie, it isn’t enough to get out of a situation, you have to know how you got in. You haven’t really talked to anyone about it have you? Someone outside of the church? I am not a counsellor, but I have an ear and you can talk.’

He realised he hadn’t.

They left the restaurant and started walking, heading for Central Park, it was late afternoon, a clear Spring day, fresh with the promise of Summer. It was going to be long walk. Sukie wanted to take him into the centre of the Park and stop for coffee.

‘Do you love him?’

‘Yes.’

‘Oh Armie.’

‘Have you told anyone?’

‘No. It is my business I am not going to tell anyone in the church. Look I am going to go home, to California. I have people there that I can talk to. Especially my brother. I need to talk with him about this. He’s my real confidante and I’ve spent six months looking into my soul, examining what happened, discussing my vocation, studying the bible, reviewing current thinking, contemplating with my colleagues and still not really got out of it.

I can’t go back Sukie but I am finding it hard to go forward. That is why I asked for a placement back home. I don’t know what to do. I still want him. All I have done is learnt how to control myself but emotionally…I am still there…with him.’

‘Have you spoken with him?’

Armie shook his head.

‘Do you want to?’

‘I can’t. I re-newed my vows. The original ones. Now I can’t reconcile the two parts of me. In biblical terms I have tasted of the fruit and I am no longer ignorant, nor am I innocent.’

They walked in silence for a while. After a wary start Armie got himself back together, and the conversation turned back to more general matters.

‘Can I come and visit you in California?’

‘Of course you can, I need all the friends I can get. Bring your husband, I can teach him to fish, sea fishing. Is he sporty? My brother would love to have someone who is really interested in the outdoor activities.’

‘…Not really, but I am sure he would like to learn how to fish, not much chance here in Manhattan nor Brooklyn…he likes being out in the fresh air and trying out new things.

Would you like to come and do a few sessions at school? Debating not RE. Is that out of order?’

‘No. There’s nothing to stop me coming back. I just thought as I was leaving town that it would be best to make a clean break. If you want me to come in a do a session, I would be happy to. I will just check with Father Richard.’

‘What is Father’s Richard’s role in all of this?’

‘He’s my mentor, or one of my mentors. He has helped me walk through all of this. The Pastor called him in when he saw what was going on.’

‘How did he know?’

‘Usual stuff. I had to wash my own clothes and bed linen, Martha did most of the household washing – I couldn’t let her see, well you know what I mean. Living on my phone, up late, out more often, didn’t say what I was doing and my head was not where it should have been. I would have got away with the all of the former but the latter gave everything away. I was, still am, in love and it showed.’

Armie laughed ruefully.

‘Looking back it was obvious, and the housekeeper Martha was giving me tacit approval…and advice’

‘What!’

‘Yeah, she told me about her misbehaving husband, and how much she loved him. She gave me advice about how to manage Timothy. Except she didn’t, she hid it under the cover of talking about her own experience. I haven’t seen her. She left the Priory whilst I was gone on sabbatical. I hear she moved in with her sister. I would like to see her, she helped me a lot, she was a good friend. I could listen to her and take advice without feeling like a fool.’

‘Fool?’

‘I didn’t have any experience remember, she made me feel anything was alright so long as there was real love.’

Armie took the opportunity to talk about things he could not discuss with Father Richard. Stopped short of discussing the sex but talked around it, and how much he missed it. And still missed it. Sukie was understanding, and let him get everything out of his system. She had no advice for him, it was helpful for Armie just to get the words out. And then like most meetings, there came a natural end, or they would have carried on talking into the night, there would be other times to continue the conversation.

‘Time for me to go home, Armie, I’ll be in touch about the sessions. When are you going to be unavailable?’

‘I am working but I can get away early, if you plan the sessions for after school I can get there if I know the times in advance.

They hugged each other goodbye and each went their own way. Armie felt lighter. Sukie was right, he needed that conversation to clear away some of the remaining feelings. He could go forward, well at least feel that he was not standing still, another stage to recovery had been reached.

‘You can speak to a therapist or have some counselling if you want Armie. The church will pay.’

‘I am getting there, can I get back to you?’

On their next meeting, Armie mentioned to Father Richard that he had met Sukie and that he had enjoyed talking to her. In truth, all he wanted to do was have the similar conversation with Vic, and continue the conversation with Sukie, he didn’t want a professional opinion, he was happier knowing he could talk to people close to him. The next few weeks rumbled on, he thought he was getting better but in reality was just existing. It was now seven months since he had seen Timothy and he had learned to live with the situation and was looking forward to going back to California and some semblance of ordinary life. New York was too much for him. He was going in a week’s time, onto a new chapter in his life and perversely he was starting to look forward to it.

When Timothy had woken and missed the warmth of Armie’s body, he turned looking for something he had gotten used to, when he realised Armie wasn’t there he pushed his face into the pillow in an effort to stop the tears, it was pointless. He kept telling himself that he knew that Armie was never going to be his in the long-term, he was just borrowing him, that is what it felt like every time Armie left him, it was like peeping behind his fingers to see if he was still in sight. Only this time he wasn’t anywhere on the horizon. He rolled over and saw the book, knew what it was and despite knowing the deep feeling that was coming picked it up and looked inside, read Armie’s words and threw it across the room. The phone he put on the side table, caressed it, and it opened, no password or fingerprint needed. He went into the gallery, there were only ten pictures, all of Armie and Timothy, taken on various days, doing various things, the last one a selfie of them in bed, Timothy asleep Armie looking over him. He wept, silently racking up sobs that no one could hear. He nearly deleted them. Thought better and put the phone back on the table. Tried to go back to sleep, but kept on crying, got up, tried to eat, put the sandwich he’d made in the fridge, he might eat it later. Had a cup of green tea, sat on the sofa where they had made love the day before, lay down and cried himself to sleep.

He was woken by the buzzer.

‘Where have you been? I have been calling you.’

He buzzed open the outer door, opened his front door and went back to the sofa, got his tea, threw the rest of it away and put the kettle on.

‘You look like shit. He’s gone hasn’t he? Come on get dressed. We are going out. Drink this.’ He gave him a bottle of spring water. Timothy drank half, gave it back and looked at him with piteous eyes.

Will would not take no for an answer, so red eyed and very sober in demeanour Timothy went out onto the street, it was the same as before, a Spring day with much promise. For other people. He could barely get a word out and Will let him be, he had done well to get him out in the first place, he didn’t think he would come out but he followed every instruction as if in a dream. An hour later they returned with the makings of lunch and dinner, and Will stayed with him for the rest of the week, slept in his bed, a warm body to be close to and a thoughtful friend who listened to anything he had to say. He didn’t have much to say. Only that he loved him and that he knew that he was going to get dumped, and he just took what he could. And repeated that endlessly over the following days, until Will told him to shut the fuck up.

‘What did you expect? He is a fucking priest. He told you from the start that he wasn’t going to stop being a priest. He never lied to you.’

That just brought the tears back.

‘I am going out tonight, but I’ll be back later. Go and get some sleep. You have auditions this week. I know this is not helpful, but you have to pull yourself together, at least while you are in company, particularly these people. Come on, you have work to do.’

Using a mixture of bullying and compassion Will got Timothy through the first month and then had to leave him to go on work-related business. He roped in other friends who joined Timothy’s vigil and between them all, he achieved some stability even getting some work from one of the auditions he attended. He went to see Brian, his Agent and asked him to find work, he’d do anything, including theatre, three weeks later he found himself standing in for an actor who fell ill. It was an off-Broadway production, but respectable, good writer, good actors and a director who was understanding. He got stuck in and used his melancholy to good effect putting all this emotion into the role, and he got good reviews, not excellent he wasn’t the lead but he was commented on and from that another offer for theatre for a show that wasn’t going to be on for another six months. He looked for things to fill his time, took a cameo role in a television show about families which was filming in New York, playing the urbane New York boyfriend of the son, they liked him and he got a guest starring role for four episodes, but they were filming in Los Angeles. He decided to go for it. It would be a month or two of work and he would be back in time to start preparing for the show. He was busy and happy to be so. Will kept an eye on him, and Timothy knew that he was.

‘I’m OK.’

‘No you aren’t, but you will do for now.’

Will was right, he was existing, living off excess energy and an aching heart, what the camera and audiences saw was intensity. He got more work purely off his heartache and he took it, not leading roles, he wasn’t made for that, interesting things that he could research and work his way into. One day on set for the family drama, he was pleasantly surprised to find that a former acquaintance was playing a family member.

‘Hey Margo…long time no see…’

‘Hey yourself, how’s the lover…’

‘What lover?’

‘You know very well what I speak of…don’t force me to go all biblical on you.’

The others were watching, and listening.

Timothy found the wherewith all to laugh.

‘Be as biblical as you like.’

Margo drew him to one side.

‘The sparks were flying off both of you…what happened?’

‘Nothing, he is a priest, we walked up a hill, and that was it. Now tell me your news.’

Margo looked at him sceptically.

‘OK, say nothing, it’s written all over your face…and the body cannot lie. Where is he?’

‘I told you there’s nothing between us, drop it Margo.’

Margo saw how it was and left it alone…for the moment.

‘How many people know?’

‘I don’t know but you were like a tannoy. You lit up when you spoke about him. I knew when you had seen him, and I knew when you were just about to see him. Words were not needed. How he ever kept it from his fellow priests I do not know.’

‘Well he didn’t. That’s how we…I am in this mess.’

‘The mess seems to have worked out for you.’

‘This is temporary.’

‘What do you mean by that?’

Timothy didn’t answer that question, but had one of his own.

‘When are you coming to visit me?’

‘You are only there for six weeks.’

‘I think I might stay on.’

‘You have that show.’

‘Yeah that’s only for three months plus rehearsal time, then I am coming back, I’m here before and after, there might be work down here for me, in film.’

‘Timothy what are you up to?’

‘Nothing.’

‘The fuck. You are lying.’

‘Not lying. It’s true, there’s the possibility of more work, if I want to do television or film.’

A thought came into Will’s head.

‘He’s not there is he? He’s from California. You little shit. He’s there isn’t he?’

‘I’ll catch you later. Gotta go. They’re calling me.’

In truth, Timothy did not know if Armie was back in California. Work was a good excuse to get away from New York he didn’t know where Armie was, he was living and liking it most of the time.

So life went on, he filmed during the day and cruised by night, well not every night but enough nights to think he should call a halt to it. It was only a question of time before he was spotted or reported in a blind. So he went to clubs where the clientele were discreet and who certainly did not want to be discovered. He found himself a couple of regular partners he swapped around and who he could go out to dinner with without being ashamed. When he went back to New York, he kept in touch treating them like friends, and even coming down a couple of weekends to stay in touch. They knew about each other, it was all cool and open, then one found a boyfriend and wanted to go exclusive. He understood and said goodbye easily, then the other one complained that he wasn’t around and he wasn’t going to wait around for him. So he was on his own again and six months had gone by and he was beginning to feel sorry for himself. He couldn’t go cruising again, he felt he deserved better, it was tawdry and not leading to a settled existence which was what he wanted. He decided to take time out from relationships, he wasn’t very good at it anyway. First Paul, whom he had loved but was never in love with, then Armie which frankly was a disaster, and then cruising, his love life was a mess. Best to set that aside. Will tried, he set him up with a variety of blind dates and when he refused those, invited him by proxy to friends’ parties, friends that Will had in California and New York. His castmates invited him to dinner and weekend lunch parties, he didn’t shun them but he was lacklustre in responding, they equally became lacklustre about inviting him out. He knew he could turn things around fairly easily, but he wasn’t interested. He was nearly twenty-five and taking time out, it was wrong. He should be trying out different people, nothing serious, just actually dating. He couldn’t do it. He was an all or nothing person, and at the moment his all was one Armand Hammer. He had to own it, all he was doing was running away from, not towards fulfilment. He couldn’t put the relationship with Armie down until he acknowledged it and confessed that he hoped that he would run into Armie in California, the work was bonus, what he really wanted was to see Armie again. He had done the running in New York, he still felt very strongly about Armie, it wasn’t resolved. Will had not been wrong. He didn’t know where Armie was but he knew he wasn’t in New York, what were the odds?

He had emailed the Priory, carefully wording his note to Pastor Enrique as a simple enquiry about finding Armie because he wanted to offer him some work, a partnership working with prisoners who were leaving the prison system, expanding communication skills and teaching them skills, building confidence to be able to deal with difficult situations. Could Father Enrique tell him where Armie was? He left the Pastor one of his burner account details, careful not to leave an address. Martha picked up the email, and had suspicions immediately, but she could not help, she knew that Armie was in New York but she did not know where he was and she replied saying the same in as many words, confirming that Armie was continuing his training elsewhere and it wasn’t confirmed if he would be coming back to the Priory. She invited him to try again in a few months, they might know then. So he tried again three months later, and was told that Armie had left New York. So now he knew that there was a good possibility he was actually in California. He remembered that on one of their dates, Armie had said that he could easily go back to California, he enjoyed New York after all that was where he met Timothy but his heart really was in Santa Barbara where his family lived. Timothy sat and thought about it for a week, then he made up his mind. He was going to move there, let the dice fall where they would. He might not meet Armie, it was all chance, if it was meant to be it was going to be. He could travel easily to Los Angeles. He didn’t want to live there, and if he had to he would lodge on or close to the set.

Armie wrote to the Department of Corrections and Rehabilitation and offered his services, helping poor readers and also teaching debating or communication skills. They wrote him back. He sent in more details and an updated CV. They called him to talk to him, he met with the service’s Chaplin.

‘Have you considered training as a prison chaplin Armie?’

‘I hadn’t given it much thought. I have worked in a prison before, running some classes…that was why I applied. I’m still in training, I’m not yet a fully ordained Jesuit. I’m also studying for a doctorate, I’ve got to transfer out here from Columbia.’

‘Columbia? Gosh, we are blessed.’

‘Not really, I worked there…’

The Chaplin fell silent and gazed upon Armie as one who is seeing minor royalty and has some questions, the minor royalty is not the King and may be questioned especially if he offers ‘interesting’ information.

‘Why have you come to Santa Barbara?’

‘I took some time out. I am back in training.’

The Chaplin didn’t think it was appropriate to ask any more questions, he had plenty but it wasn’t worth opening up a debate to which he was not going to get answers.

‘Why don’t you come and sit in a class. Have you got references or commendations?’

‘Yes, I have, shall I have them sent to you? What address? You probably want it all by email, shall I give you my email address.’

‘Armie, do you have anything going on which would make it inappropriate to work with prisoners?’

That gave Armie pause.

‘No. I had some personal things to sort out, now all I am concerned about is simple things like where to live, and a full-time job. This would be my community work. As a Jesuit, I would be expected to serve in the community and to help wherever I can with those who have less than most people. I will be teaching somewhere in a school or the University, I’m applying for posts…I hadn’t considered the prison service…I think I still want to teach young people.’

‘Well we can see how we go, give me your contact details Armie. Where are you with your study?

Armie relaxed, changed tack and went into a genial and self-assured conversation with the Chaplin, but the Chaplin wasn’t fooled; people don’t travel hundreds of miles to come back home without a reason and he knew there was a reason that Armie had come back to California and that it was something significant. Here was a good-looking intelligent young man who should have everything at his feet and in his hands but clearly had something eating away at him. He wasn’t sure if Armie was really cut out for a priest’s life, clearly he had devotion and vocation, it might work out, but instinct told him Armie’s life was going to be difficult.

The Governor of Rikers had taken a shine to Timothy and when he said he wouldn't be able to help with the group anymore he took the time to call him in for a chat. He liked him because he saw someone who was genuine and wanted to help and had a way of being able to communicate with the younger prisoners and they with him. He loved music, understood the culture of young men, knew what it was like on the streets of New York, learnt the prison lingo very quickly and could speak to them on their own terms. He got them and they got him. He didn't patronise them and they saw him as someone who though not exactly an equal, was prepared to listen to them and adapt his material to suit their ability and their background.

‘I'm going to California to work, I've just got back from some filming, have some work here in New York and it looks like I am going back there to do some follow up work in a TV series. So things are looking up for me.'

‘That’s really good. I thought you were leaving us because... Not because you didn't like it but I know that people get jaded...How long have you been running that class?'

On and off for about 18 months. It's been good for me. I live a privileged life, this is gritty. Keeps me on my toes, good for my reflexes.’

The first class Timothy had taken had been interrupted by a fight, it wasn't a true fight both of those involved were trying him out, he had stepped back and let them get on with it. When they realised he wasn't going yell or intervene or call for more protection, they respected him and he didn't have any more trouble. The two fighting ended up even more battered because the guards called for assistance so the two boys influenced and induced by their peers to put on a show, went further than they had to proving themselves and then the gang of guards used their batons.

During the fight everybody in the room had been standing back cheering and jeering the fighting. The high level of excitement and enjoyment of the fight was very evident. Afterwards he told them he was getting paid regardless, what were they getting? That made them all stand still and consider.

When one of prisoners put his hand on Timothy, he flicked it off and said 'Don't touch unless you mean it', and winked at him. After that they all called him 'Baby'. When they cheeked him, he bitched them right back.

The Governor heard about this new volunteer and took time out to meet him, so the meeting wasn't the first time Timothy had seen him. The Governor decided to help him out. He sent his details down to his equivalent down at a new jail in California near Santa Barbara, and said that he was worth approaching, and he should be contacted. His details were sent to the same Chaplin that saw Armie except somehow a mistake was made and Armie’s and Timothy’s details got swapped around. Timothy’s commendation got attached to Armie’s qualifications. The two CVs were printed and the pages mixed up on a desk. Wes, the Chaplin in California thought that the details didn't quite match when he read the compiled document, but Armie had studied at Columbia and he was clearly interested in Philosophy and he had taken groups at Rikers and he had been volunteering a while. So the Chaplin offered Armie a group session at the new facility to test him out and the governor at Rikers got to hear that his protégé had done well in his meeting and sent an email to Timothy to tell him he’d heard a session had been booked and ‘well done’, he also noted the day of the session and that he would be thinking of him, and closed by wishing him good luck. And Armie's name got put against the class and Timothy had a lot going on with his life and forgot to reply to the email.

Timothy was done with New York, his third sojourn in California was turning out just fine. On the plane down he was blessed, finding himself seated next to a discreet attractive older gay man…turned out he was forty, who he got talking to and who invited him out for dinner, and that worked out and they started dating and Jules was away a fair bit for work, but that suited him because he liked him but he knew that he was biding his time, and it was nice to have someone around who didn’t bug him to spend more time with him, and who above all treated him nice. Jules was temporary, there would come a time when he would get what he wanted. And Jules knew, he mentioned the age gap and he tried to find out who the mystery lover was…and he didn’t succeed, so he left it. Timothy’s suffering had taught him only one thing, he might gather substitutes but he knew what the real thing was, and he could wait for what he wanted.

One afternoon at a loss for something to do, Timothy began checking his older emails and found the Governor’s.

‘Shit shit shit…better reply…’

Checked his calendar and he was meeting a producer the same day, he would be pushed to make it. Fuck it. He’d let it pass, so he did, meaning again to get in contact, then Jules called him and it went out of his mind again. The following week, another email from the Rikers’ Governor.

>Good Job. They were very pleased with you.

He went on to say that he was glad that he had agreed to do some more sessions. Timothy was intrigued, someone had done a good job, it wasn’t him.

Timothy texted the Governor.

<that’s great of them to offer more work – who r you speaking with? Perhaps we r dealing with diff. people. Norm admin. confirm details unusl for Gvrnors to bthr with this kind of stuff. I know u were interested, not all r. Haven’t had the final details. What’d they tell u?

It wasn’t quite lying, it was true he knew nothing of the arrangements.

>Mike is different, he likes to get involved with all aspects of the jail. It’s new remember, it’s in his interest to pay attention. Good Luck with the rest of the sessions. I’ll be in touch.

Timothy mused on this text conversation. Who could it be? There was one distinct possibility…that was impossible. He seriously thought about stalking the jail…that was stupid. Then he thought he would ring the Jail and tell them that his computer and phone had been stolen and he just wanted to check the details of his next session. Unfortunately, he remembered that he wasn’t actually delivering the session, so he couldn’t use his own name. Then he hit upon telling them that he was assisting, and he needed the details so he could prepare the session, that wouldn’t work either, they would just ask him who he was. Then he thought he might be able to get the dates and times of the sessions somehow by just asking for them, which was equally stupid. 

Then he remembered that he had the details and passwords for Armie’s personal email account, a mobile number, all the passwords to his online life. So he emailed from Armie’s account and asked for the details of the next session to be re-sent and he set the reply-to address to himself and he deleted the original email after first forwarding it to his email account. And waited. Later that day, the email with attachments turned up. Armie was going to be there in a few days time, the attachments were protected, he couldn’t open them, he waited for the password to turn up. It didn’t but he knew now it was Armie and he knew Armie was going to be there on Thursday for a session starting at 2.30pm.

Armie got a message saying that someone had logged onto his account from another device on Sunday at 4.00pm. He racked his brain, he hadn’t set up his new phone, it was still in the box, must be some mistake. The message had a geotag, somewhere in California, then more specifically someone in Santa Barbara. That was weird, then he thought who else had access to his machines, no one, this device was definitely different, Vic had given him his old iphone. He was being dumb. The only person who could get into his accounts was Timothy…like most fools he had not changed his passwords. Timothy was in California and possibly in his home town? Did he know where he was staying? He began to fret. Was he going to turn up at the jail on Thursday? He sat down to think.

Was this going to start all over again? He was in two minds. He knew it could start again but he had had seven or eight months to get over him. It was hopeless, his heart was racing his hands were clammy and his head was beginning to pound. He got up and went out for a run, running for an hour. It helped, he checked his phone no additional logins. He sat down turning the phone over and over, he was considering what to do, he should change the password, he wondered if Timothy knew he had got a message to say that someone had logged on and laughed because he also knew that Timothy probably thought he had got away with it. He had deleted whatever he had sent, leaving only that one trace that he had logged on. Finally, he changed the password, realising that Timothy might take things further. He forgot that Timmy had set up the Apple account and could change the password at will and he had the master password so whatever he changed it to made no difference, as he sat there another notification came by email and text confirming that his account had been accessed from another device, the same area on a different ip address, and he knew that it was Timothy telling him that he was back on the horizon and he was not giving up. He opened his new laptop and created his own accounts on email and on social media. He didn’t delete the other accounts, but he set everything up as far as he could to reply to his new accounts.

Months passed, Timothy did not use their joint accounts again and Armie eventually fell back into a normal life. He was staying in a Priory with eleven other initiates, it was similar to a dorm. He had a room to himself and shared other areas, two rooms were used for eating one of them the actual kitchen, each had large tables so they were used at quiet times for other purposes, the other rooms had a mixture of uses, a couple of them generally used for quiet activities, writing or reading, one of them could be called a library, it had proper desks that could be sat at, a study room with several computers and screens, and a room with a television and sound system, which could also be used to stream music in a couple of the other downstairs rooms.

He didn’t mind it. The inhabitants all had different routines and schedules, it was never clear who was in and who was out. The environment something he had to get used to if he was going to stay in the priesthood. He tried to settle in, spending time with his colleagues, socially and in discussion but it felt fake. Like it wasn’t real life. Real life was out there in the real world, people sinning and not caring, not cloistered with people who were afraid to live freely, afraid of doing anything against church doctrine. He knew why he had been sent to this particular group, he was meant to learn what commitment to his vocation looked like and meant. He knew what it was supposed to do for him, and he began to chafe at convention.

‘We just hired a new guy, he is going to work on the performance of Henry V.’

Armie wasn’t paying attention.

‘Do you need some help with the actors, I can take them through lines, I have time.’

In fact he had a fair amount of time, he had found a job in a girls school teaching RE, Philosophy and Spanish as he had up in New York. He had prison reading sessions on a Saturday morning, and was wanting something to do on Sunday. The prison acting group rehearsed on Sundays, it would help him, it might mean that he missed the mid-morning Service but there were other services he could attend and not just on Sunday.

‘I don’t mind helping, I prefer Sundays…you don’t want any help during the week do you? I finish school mostly by 4. I help run a debating society, that’s mainly Thursday otherwise I’m fairly free.’

‘You don’t mind working with someone else, do you? You’ve done joint workshops before haven’t you? His name is Timothy, he’s done some similar work up in New York, he should find it easy. He seems nice, very pleasant, young but experienced.’

Armie had frozen on ‘Timothy’, he didn’t hear anything else after that. Well he did, but nothing made sense. It wasn’t possible. Like a needle, there was also a sharp pang of joy.

‘We’ve got the Director and his team, but we needed someone to workshop some elements of the show. He’s an actor, he’s done film and stagework, he’s a coup. He’ll need someone who can be a second pair of hands, I mean ears, and you would help individuals, one on one, with comprehension. Would that be OK?’

Would that be OK?…Would that be OK? He was repeating the whole conversation in his head. The words were the same, but he couldn’t understand them. He couldn’t think straight, he could hardly breath. He couldn’t speak.

‘You OK?’

‘Yes.’

‘So, can you help?’

Silence reigned.

‘Yes. What’s his name?’

He didn’t know why he was asking. It was a stupid question, he knew exactly who it was and he knew that Timothy had bided his time and waited for the right situation to arise.

‘How did you find this? Sounds so interesting?’

‘Well I had an ‘in’...a former acquaintance in a prison in New York, he recommended me.’

‘But you are working.’

‘I know Jules, it’s Sundays.’

‘I’ll never see you.’

‘Not true, I don’t work very late. And I’m not working at the moment, come on…’

‘Well, are we having dinner tonight?’

Timothy turned pensive, he didn’t want to meet Jules. What he wanted was to go home and work on his workshop material and learn some lines for an audition. If he was honest, he was getting fed up of Jules, it was something and nothing, the sex was good and he needed it, Jules was good to him and he was good fun. He should show willing.

‘Yes…where do you want to go?’

‘Let’s go to that Mexican place, the one near the waterfront.’

‘Do we _have_ to travel down there?’

‘If you don’t want to go, just say so…’

They went but the conversation was stilted and awkward, they went back to their respective apartments. Timothy complaining of a headache, Jules letting him. He had been around the block a few times, he liked Timothy very much but knew he was a stop gap, either for someone else or to while away time. He had nothing better lined up, so he stuck with him. He called Timothy from his bed.

‘I have a complimentary weekend stay at Harbour House Inn, care of some suppliers, do you want to come…I can go on the weekend of the fourteenth – when do you start with the workshops? We can use the voucher any weekend in the month.’

‘I start the workshops in a couple of weeks…could go next weekend or the weekend after the 14th, need to be around for the first couple of workshops…so the 21st is best?’

‘I can’t go then, I have to go to New York for a head office meeting.’

‘Take Sandra.’

Sandra was his sister, she lived in Los Angeles.

‘Timothy, what is wrong with you?’

‘Nothing. What do you mean, what is wrong with me? The timing is just inconvenient. Can’t you get different dates? It doesn’t matter anyway I am going to be doing those workshops until Christmas when the show goes on. And I have work lined up too. If you can’t get them changed, make the most – take Sandra.’

‘I’ll take her. Look I have some things to do. I’ll call you.’

The line went dead.

Timothy made a face, too bad if Jules was upset. It wasn’t convenient. He would have to make it up to him but at the bottom of his heart he knew what the problem was…Armie was in touching distance. He put on some music, the Mozart that had been recorded the evening that they had first really spoken with each other. He lay on the sofa, and mused, wondering if he should contact Armie or just see what happened. Really it was a question of time before they ran into each other, they would be working with the same group and the governor intimated that he thought that they knew each other; he also said that he thought that there had been some kind of confusion over who was initially contacted.

Wes Baker, the Chaplin had introduced himself via email and told him that Armie had been working with the group for a while to good effect, and perhaps they knew each other from Rikers, and didn’t they have some history, both seemed to have been at Columbia at the same time from their CVs? He would introduce Armie when he came into the first workshop. Armie would be there as support, as he knew most of the prisoners who had been selected to perform and had been helping them with the script. He decided to wait, he didn’t need to pre-empt the introduction, it was only a couple of weeks until the first workshop.

He thought on, it might be better to just send a word in case it was too much of a shock. It was near enough a year since they had met last. Should he contact Armie? And if he did what would he say? Heads up? I shall be with the performing group. What if Armie took fright and decided to stop helping. There was the greater problem, Armie might not want to see him, he had to give that some consideration it might not work out. In the end after much too’ing and fro’ing he decided not to contact Armie, he would see how things would fall out of a normal introduction. The worst that could happen is that Armie would drop out of the project after the initial meeting.

Armie went home and also put on some music, his choice was the Verdi Requiem, he needed something to take his mind off what had just happened. As he listened on earphones, phone in pocket, he made something to eat, something simple fresh pasta, with some (a lot) of butter and some shaved garlic and chopped parsley. He took it up to his bedroom and once he had eaten lay on his bed and took out his copy of St Augustine, the copy he had bought a few weeks after he had handed Timothy back the copy he had given him. He turned to a section, something that gave him comfort and reminded him of Timothy.

“It is this Good which we are commanded to love with our whole heart, with our whole mind, and with all our strength. It is toward this Good that we should be led by those who love us, and toward this Good we should lead those whom we love. In this way, we fulfill the commandments on which depend the whole Law and the Prophets:

'Thou shalt love the Lord Thy God with thy whole heart, and thy whole soul, and with thy whole mind'; and 'Thou shalt love thy neighbor as thyself.'

For, in order that a man might learn how to love himself, a standard was set to regulate all his actions on which his happiness depends. For, to love one's own self is nothing but to wish to be happy, and the standard is union with God. When, therefore, a person who knows how to love himself is bidden to love his neighbor as himself, is he not, in effect, commanded to persuade others, as far as he can, to love God?”

His mind began to work on these and other words, the meaning of love and of sacrifice. Surely God would not want him to divorce himself from the love he had felt? Could it not be taken that love in itself was closest to purity of spirit and that loving Timothy should be seen a goal, surely loving his fellow man could not be wrong? Then he remembered other teachings from Augustine, how the body was a temple for the soul and therefore should not be used for iniquity, sex between the unmarried was base, it was only marriage that it made tolerable, love between men was an abomination. The body was to be treated as sacrifice through temperance and through that a passage to the love of God. He put the book down. He could not turn the words into something in his favour or acceptance of his love emotional and physical. Man was a beast driven by desire and disobedience, and he was the epitome of this Man. Even as he read his body stirred in remembrance. It was hopeless. He knew that if he saw Timothy that he was headed down the same path as before except this time he knew the joy of being physically close to another. It would turn out as it should. He was not placing himself in danger, he was merely seeing how things turned out, and as the thought passed through his mind, some other words also ran with the thought: you are a liar and you want him. He got on his knees and began to pray but the thought were persistent, he had dropped right back into that space where he gave himself permission to experience all things, things acceptable and things personal and pleasurable which were his only to savour, and he knew that he was safe, because the only things that had struck him down were man made and man ordained. If he had managed then, he was better placed to manage whatever life threw at him now, his life would be what it needed to be and he would cope with whatever came forth.


	11. Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie may have got through his penance, he knows that Timothy is out there but there are things to sort out, it's not all plain sailing. He begins to get a glimpse into the future and the considerations he now needs to make. His dependency on others to help him navigate his life is becoming apparent and he doesn't know how transparent he can be or how much trust he should invest in those people.

For now we see through a glass, darkly

but then face to face: now I know in part; but then shall I know even as also I am known.

And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.

\- 1 Corinthians 12, New Testament

The weeks rolled by, as did the days and then the hour and the workshop came around. At the appointed time the Director and producers stood in the prison performance space, a large room converted to handle performance; lights, audio and media equipment had been installed specially to facilitate the service. 150 seats sloped to a stage, not a huge number, enough to make it feel worthwhile and not so many to create a security risk. Some prisoners had performed already there and were comfortable or at least looked forward to returning to the stage, for others a first, anxiety and fragile confidence came to face this challenging new experience. There was a nervous energy abounding in the room, the tone anticipation, a sense that something could happen, something palpable, then the fear of not actually doing well. The production team thought this was good, intensity was good, an indication that commitment was already forming.

Timothy was talking to the dialogue coach, someone who was going to help with delivery of the text who he thought might be useful for his future projects. His name was Cole and he worked regularly on off-Broadway shows and tours, he was up and coming, and also had several teaching contracts behind him. Timothy immediately liked him, and they got into a conversation about their work and Timothy’s work on film sets. Cole hadn’t done much film work, enough to know the mechanics and that it was something he wasn’t really interested in. He was in California for six months to teach a module on a performance course at the University, then he was going back to New York so Timothy was picking his brains for tips and ideas he could use for teaching his workshop. As they spoke it was clear that this work with the prisoners was something that he would continue doing in addition to his professional work. There was a sudden halt in conversation, Timothy didn’t need to know who had come into the room, he felt it in his inner core. The middle of his back felt like someone had brushed fingers down it, the sensation went inside him, then a shiver of desire, he swallowed and tried to hold his nerve.

‘Hey Timothy…Timothy, come and meet Father Armie’

He made a decision. He wasn’t going to acknowledge he knew him or show recognition. It was best. Because later it would be important no one should know that they knew each other very well. He veiled his face, making a choice to be non-committal and if necessary derisive. He set up his face, tried to be impassive and shaped his mouth into a friendly smile but it was no good, his eyes were shining before he even turned.

Armie was not immune, his eyes had flashed and his pupils dilated. He too composed himself.

‘Hey, do you know each other?’

‘No. But I have heard of Timothy. You did some work at Rikers’ didn’t you? I think I was there at the same time as you but our paths never crossed. It’s nice to meet you.’

Armie held his hand out, steady, now calm and resolute, a slight twist of his lips before a true welcoming smile. Nothing untoward, just pleasant and showing interest in his new colleague. He prepared a physical and mental lie: I don’t know you. 

‘Nice to meet you Armie, I don’t think we have met. What are you doing here?’

There was a slight pause. They each held the other’s attention.

‘Sorry, that sounded rude, I meant what work are you doing with the inmates?’

‘That’s OK, Timothy…I help with literacy and comprehension. I’m training to be a Jesuit priest and we are meant to work in the community as well as participate in religious life, I‘ve been doing this for a few months, it’s very enjoyable.’

‘Well I bet you don’t get any trouble.’

There was a natural quizzical look from Armie. Another electric pause.

‘Why?’

‘Man you are tall…and built.’

Armie gave him a look that said shut up.

The others in the group, smiled and laughed indulgently, but there were one or two looks trying gauge what was happening. Timothy was the youngest there, he was twenty-five and judged kindly, for a moment Timothy wondered if he had gone too far, and then relaxed. The others were still smiling, it was probably OK. He used the space in the conversation to look at Armie. By his estimate he was about thirty-one probably thirty-two, his face marked the difficulties he had been under, but he was essentially still his Armie, he kept looking, he wanted to see if could he work out what Armie was feeling.

Armie’s mask nearly slipped when he saw him. He knew he was going to be there and he had tried to prepare himself. He tried to put away the immediate longing, it felt like Timothy was crawling right back into the space inside he had tried so hard to fill by ignoring it. One of the Producers, Jan, had told him who was in the team supporting the group of prisoner actors, so he knew Timothy was going to be there and he thought he was ready. Even as he turned to walk into the room, his heartbeat rose, a kind of haze floated round his head, and then he saw him. He caught sight of his form as soon as he walked into the room. He would know him anywhere and recognise him from any angle. His Lover. His heart uttered a sigh. The back of Timothy’s head was just the same, his breath left him as he observed the long curl that was thrown back and kept sliding forward, the shape of his crown, the rivulets of wavy hair at the back of his head, the long soft white neck; his mouth watered at the memory of the taste of his body. He gathered himself and waited to be introduced, the introduction another lie, he knew every inch of his body. He held himself in check using all the meditative techniques he could, at last stilled there Timothy was, nothing changed in his elements, a little fuller of face, the eyes less certain, a line or two more evident under them, someone living a full life, someone who had experienced some difficult passage of time, it was all written on his face. Young but with an element of his person by necessity closed off, something private, open in nature yet something further back mentally and sensibility, emotional maturity in a young person’s body. He read this in his face in seconds, because he knew him and he knew why he was like this.

The hand was as he remembered, firm, soft skinned and yielding to his. As soon as he touched him, Timothy both clasped his hand fully and opened it so he could get the most skin to skin contact with him possible, they could not help it, the energy flashed between them, evident in the eye contact, a little too long a little too knowing. They were amongst people who observed for a living and the electric tension between them was picked up.

The Director smiled, happy at this connection within his team.

‘Shall we meet our actors? Gentlemen, and ladies time to introduce our team, I’m already picking up some good vibes, I’ll start with…’

David, the Director started with himself and went around the line-up, ending with Timothy who by now had gathered himself properly and spoke with a coherency beyond his years. After introductions, the inmates were put into small groups led by a production team member and given fifteen minutes with each person to learn about their trade or skill; they broke after three sessions for refreshments, there were another two sessions and then everyone was free.

‘Do you want a lift?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Wherever you are…’

Someone interrupted them. They stood their ground, eyes held.

‘Do you guys want a lift into town or transport?’

A movement apart, slight, emotional and physical, then Armie turned to answer.

‘No, I have my car, I’ll give Timothy a lift, I think he is not far from where I am staying.’

Timothy held his head down as he spoke.

‘Do you know where I am staying?’

‘No.’

They continued walking and got into Armie’s car.

Once seated Timothy put his hand on Armie’s leg and Armie did not take it off. They drove away.

‘How are you Armie?’

‘Very glad to see you. Let’s drive around for a while, I don’t want to go anywhere where we might be seen and known. OK?’

‘Perfect.’

They drove on in silence for the next ten minutes, Armie drove into a residential area, parked off the main street and found a coffee shop down the next small street, he did not know the area, it was both poor and arty the kind of place that would be soon up and coming, people with money hadn’t discovered it yet, the café was off the main track so they were fairly safe, They did not really stick out, dressed casually for the workshop, Timothy was in a pair of worn jeans, Armie in chinos, both in t-shirts and hoodies. They were glanced at when they came in primarily for their good looks, they caught observation but nobody watched once they settled, they were finally alone. Armie had taken off his fish brooch, the only thing that marked him for a religious man he wore minimal insignia of his Catholicism. In his work with the inmates he was called by name and he had the men’s respect primarily as he was training to be a priest and secondly because of his bearing. All the things that marked him out as singular when young were enhanced by age, he had a solid calm demeanour until roused and then the familiar signs would rise up and the men knew to leave him alone. The one thing that had changed were his emotions which were closer to the edge and therefore exposure, when happy it rung out of him like gold, in anger he was cold and explosive as ice splitting from a berg. He expended his sexual energy in his emotions; he noticed that himself, it was a mechanism performed to make peace with himself, something displacing that energy with a kind of love that he could expend in different ways. He also knew that when or if he had to chance to express himself sexually, his demeanour and whole being would change again as it had previously; his edges knocked off smooth and his compassion and empathy heightened, he had had a depth of joy that was almost painful and here was his chance to have this experience again, to experience that kind of incisive joy again and he was going to hold on fast to it, he could not do without it. It was the reason that he had never let go of the idea of seeing Timothy again.

They sat at table in a nook, hidden away from the crowd and the window. Armie ordered two ordinary coffees, he did not like what he called fancy coffee, filter was good enough for him.

‘Do you want something to eat Timothy?’

‘I won’t be able to eat at the moment.’

‘…You need to put on some weight. You’ve lost a fair bit.’

‘I know.’

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Everything, and now nothing.’

Armie put his hand over Timothy’s and gazed into his eyes. There were a few moments where they savoured being able to really see each other.

‘I remember everything...’

‘…So do I.’

He almost wanted to tell Armie that he loved him and wondered why he had never said those words before. Then the thought interrupted him again…it was the truth he did love Armie.

They held hands across the table and gave each other the reassurance they each needed.

‘This is not going to be easy.’

‘I know Armie.’

‘It’s not going to be like last time.’

‘I know. We can step back on where we left things? We know how we feel about each other don’t we?’

‘We can’t Timothy. We are different people now. I had to take six months out, it was phrased as a request but really it was demanded of me. And I learnt something, I learnt that I needed that time out but also that I cannot do without you. You have marked me, I feel like I can’t go past you…this is going to sound selfish, whenever I thought about you, I wondered if you were with someone else, I can’t lie, it hurt to think that you were. Are you seeing anyone? Am I being unreasonable?’

‘No. You are not unreasonable, and yes there is someone. I also have a mark above my head Armie, and it is visible to others who are interested in me. I cannot give myself wholly to anyone else.

I am beginning to think that I don’t want…need to see him anymore. He knows that he is a surrogate for something that even I couldn’t name…see you make me lie; I always knew what it was…what I hoped for. 

Armie…I always used a condom with him…I’ve been tested as well.’

‘To the point.’ Armie laughed ruefully.

‘I wasn’t always good Armie. I missed you terribly. I didn’t know how to deal with it so I tried to forget you by replacing thoughts and memories of you with sex, I tried very hard to set you aside, but it did not work.’

He laughed. 

‘I have an Armie sized hole inside me, a template for just one person…Jules is kind…he’s older…he has patience and he loves me…but I never loved him…’

He looked into Armie’s eye to make sure he realised why, he got an equal and re-assuring response. Their faces rested into a smile.

‘…and he is beginning to realise that…I took what I needed from him which was time to get myself sorted but I knew that I was kidding myself when I came down here to California. I told everyone I came for work; the only person who wasn’t fooled was Will and he called me out. I told myself that of course there were more opportunities here, if I didn’t see you it wouldn’t matter but I always had hope and I was happy to fool myself. When I got confirmation that you had moved back to California, I was…satisfied and content, and I knew that eventually I would see you again. And here we are…’

‘I want to kiss you…’

‘…Oh Armie’

‘Timothy we can’t do this like last time. Do you have your own place? I wish I could move out of the Priory, but I can’t, I am still being watched. I wish we had our own place. We need some rules.’

‘Wow…our own place, that isn’t possible is it? What’s the point of rules? We’ll only break them. Don’t give me rules Armie, I don’t want to feel structured, I am not going to do anything to hurt you or put you in danger. I have enough to lose myself. I am going to live by the fact that we really care for each other, so we’ll do the best for each other won’t we? We don’t need to write things down do we?’

‘No…Timothy…I don’t mean…I have a lot on my mind…I’m not being clear…I didn’t mean rules as such…look forget that…I’m thinking aloud, bear with me. I can pay you some money to help pay rent on an apartment, but I can’t move out of where I am now. And I can’t buy my own place, I have to live in church accommodation.’

But Armie thought, he did have some money, money that was part of his grandmother’s inheritance, he had just never spent it. It was ideal. He could buy a small apartment; Timothy could move in and pay rent which would cover what was left of the mortgage. He had never had a real use for it, it was held in trust. His father was the administrator, it wouldn’t be easy to get the money out, he would have to explain why he wanted to invest in property, he had no wife or children to make demands upon him. He could say it was an investment for the future, better value than a saving account. The only thing that preventing him was he would have to say who was renting, that would put their relationship into the open and reveal that Timothy was more than just a good friend, all kinds of explanation and lies would ensue. He decided to stay quiet about this option for the time being, there would come a time when it was necessary to spend his money on his own place. Perhaps now was not the best time, there were lies that were necessary and others that could be avoided.

‘Don’t worry about that, I am renting at the moment, I’ll move out of where I live now and start somewhere new, we’ll be clear Armie, only essential people will know where I am. We will be safe…There’s one other thing…I logged into your email…’

Armie cut him off.

‘I know. That’s how I knew you were in California…like you I was fooling myself…a bit like closing my eyes and expecting everything to stay the same when I opened them…and I knew it couldn’t be like that. Your logging on is proof of that, I could have told you then to stay away…and I didn’t.’

Their coffees sat on the table cold.

‘Can we go somewhere private…I am getting desperate.’

‘Come back with me Armie.’

They paid and left.

Once in the car, Timothy took advantage and brushed Armie’s body with his hands as he drove, stroked his neck, ran his fingers across his shoulders and played with his hairline. Armie smiled with pure pleasure, this felt right, like he had come home. Then Timothy squeezed his thigh and pressed into the muscles Armie was driving with, as he pressed into the pedal the muscle was caressed, Armie sank into the seat, spread his ass, and began to breathe hard as his body responded. They stopped at some lights, were held a long time, Timothy’s hand rose onto his cock and started to press and stroke rhythmically, the cock stiffened and Armie opened his legs. By now Armie was flushed, his pulse was up, his attention split, mind and body were working in opposition. As they drove off Timothy watched him and as his face and body changed, moved his hand and started to undo the belt.

‘Don’t.’

Timothy ignored him, the hand undid the belt and slid into the trousers, dipping between skin and material, he took hold of the dick and started to squeeze it and pull it hard, hard enough to make Armie suffer with pleasure.

‘Timothy. I am going to have to pull over. Stop.’

‘Keep driving.’

‘Timothy please.’

Timothy undid the trousers and pulled the cock out; it was hard and already beginning to weep.

Timothy bent towards him, head descending and began to suck him.

Armie Internally muttered: Oh Christ…Timothy please…we might be seen…ahh…a volley of swear words ran like shots silently around his mouth and then he gave into the pure pleasure of his cock being so hard and Timothy’s soft moist mouth. And then he felt fresh air.

‘Turn off towards Mission Creek, Peublo Street, we are about ten minutes away from my apartment. Keep driving…we should be on De La Vina Street take the second left. My block is on Quinto Street, there’s a garage round the back.

Armie was both anxious and overwhelmed, this was reckless and dangerous he wasn’t in full control of the car, he might be caught, everything was out in the open. It was also exciting as hell, the rush was intoxicating, he was already making compromises in his head and he carried on driving.

‘We are on De La Vina, second left?’

‘Yes, 17 Quinto Street. Drive right to the end, I’ll tell you where to park.’

As they drove into the garage Timothy directed Armie to a corner where the security cameras had a limited view. His hand kept Armie hard. When they stopped he dipped his head and began to suck and lick Armie’s cock and eventually Armie began to feel like he was coming.

‘Wait Timothy…please…I am feeling uncomfortable…ohh…Timothy…wait…ahhh…shit...’

Armie’s head went blank, he could only experience his body…it was purely physical…he had lost control. He let his body do what it wanted and ruefully enjoyed it. The first time for a long time, he wanted to feel close to Timothy but his body had ruled over him…this couldn’t be right. When he opened his eyes, the world reeled around him and then settled. Timothy kept him in his mouth, softly licking, his lips gently pulling in time with his sucking. Armie put a soft hand in his hair and began to stroke. Timothy rose, mouth still moving, lips now full.

‘I wanted to kiss you first…I wanted to feel like I was close to you...to share lovemaking with you…’

‘I wanted to do it. I’m selfish too, I want the first time we have full sex to be…I don’t know…I wanted you to feel less pressurised...did I do wrong?’

‘You can’t do wrong for me…I still want to kiss you so much, to touch and hold you…’ He moved in.

‘You can’t…tidy yourself…there are cameras.’

They got out of the car and Timothy was careful to walk alongside Armie like he was just a friend. He spoke softly to ensure his voice did not carry.

‘There are cameras on all the exits…I don’t want anyone to see us together and keep the film. They know I am an actor and they know I was recently in a soap, perhaps I should have dropped you outside, you could come through the main entrance and buzzed yourself in…a bit late for that…won’t happen again…need to think this through…that was a bit reckless…I am in Apartment 10, that’s on the third floor.’

They had reached the lift. It was empty. Armie pushed Timothy in and pressed himself against him up against the wall.

‘Shut up.’

Armie kissed him thoroughly, forcing his mouth open in a bruising kiss, his tongue driving itself deep and Timothy submitted, opening his mouth to receive and suck his tongue deeper into his mouth. They were lucky the lift went straight to the third floor, Armie did not falter he continued to deeply kiss Timothy until the doors opened. They pulled straight their clothing and gathered themselves before exiting. Timothy lead the way to his apartment fumbling with the keys until Armie took them out of his hand and calmly opened the door. Timothy walked through, Armie quickly behind him, then drew him back.

‘Not so quick…if I am going to suffer for this, then I am going to enjoy every moment. You can’t go, come here.’

Armie pulled him into his arms and turned him against the door and split his legs with a knee and pressed himself between them. He grunted as he rubbed himself groin to groin. Timothy moaned and Armie resumed kissing him, first gently tasting his lips, running the tip of his tongue across his cheeks and sensing his lashes with his mouth dragging his lips down to Timothy’s mouth which opened as soon as Armie’s lips were felt. When Armie raised his head, Timothy spoke.

‘The bedroom is over there…’

Armie lifted Timothy who in turn lifted his legs around Armie’s waist, Armie placed one hand under his ass and the other around his waist and walked them both into the bedroom where he roughly dropped Timothy onto the bed, and kneeling over him began to remove his clothes, Timothy started to follow and then reached over to the bedside table.

‘Where are you going?’

‘Just fetching condoms and lube...’

‘We don’t need the condoms…’

‘Oh fuck Armie, are you sure?’

‘Absolutely. I want to feel everything.’

Timothy turned and sat up straight. He looked at him closely.

‘What time do you have to be back?’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ll deal with that when the time comes, this moment belongs to us.’

He pulled off the remainder of Timothy’s clothing. His lover lay there body open to him, soft pale skin, small rosy nipples, dick and balls a darker hue. Armie drunk him in he did not know where to start so he kept his eyes running over his body until his hands could not help touching, slowly dragging down his chest and then shaping his palm so that he could brush him all over, he rolled Timothy onto his stomach.

‘Perhaps I should shower…I need to wash…you know...’

‘I don’t care…I want to smell you as well.’ Armie took his dick into his hand and stroked it back into hardness. Lube was slicked on his dick. He dropped some between Timothy’s ass cheeks and watched as it slid into his hole, inadvertently Timothy raised his ass which opened his hole he was making soft sounds as his body received the lube. The curve and dip of his back deepened as he held himself in position, anticipating and yearning for Armie’s cock. His own cock was hardening beneath, he rubbed its tip against the bed and groaned. Armie spread himself over Timothy, a soft whimper escaped him, he slipped his hands under Timothy and put his legs either side of Timothy and enveloped him. He rested there lying on top getting used again to skin to skin contact, he breathed deeply, not only to release any existing tension but also to draw Timothy into his body before they committed the actual physical act.

‘Are you OK, Timothy…I’m not too heavy?’

‘No, you’re good…oh…wait a minute, that’s it…that’s nice…’

Armie slid down a little his dick was so hard, and laid between Timothy’s ass cheeks, he slid further down and began pumping his body angling upwards and downwards until he found what he was seeking, Timothy’s hips rose to help him, he pressed into Timothy’s body using one hand to guide his cock into Timothy.

‘Am I hurting you?’

He didn’t wait for an answer, his body was driving him on, he pressed a long slide and seated himself.

‘Fuck.’

All elements of priest had gone, his carnality had taken over, and he began to fuck Timothy with barely concealed lust. He pulled out, placed a pillow under Timothy, then pressed into him again another long slide aided by more lube.

‘Is this OK? I can’t tell you how much I longed for this.’

‘Oh yes Armie…I missed this too.’

He relaxed and Armie dove deeper into his body, stalling momentarily to feel the sensation of his dick being fully enclosed. He let out another long breath and they both worked out how to fit together, Armie raised his hips, Timothy’s body drew him in closing tight around him, and he pushed in deep squeezing down pushing down and pulling out. Timothy exhaled.

And Armie began to fuck him relentlessly, he was only conscious of the feeling of his dick leaving and entering Timothy and it called and sang to him, he listened to the sound of their lovemaking, and he was aware of the warmth of the room, the gathering in his body, muscles tightening and relaxing at the base of his cock, eventually the tension of a forming orgasm and he released his issue, body twitching and tensing as his release rose through his cock and out through its head.

He lay on top of Timothy inside him until all spasms had passed and rolled off onto his back.

‘Sorry… that was selfish…I fucking enjoyed that so much…give me a moment…I’m gonna suck you…’

But he didn’t, he rolled over and fell asleep. Timothy laughed as a gentle snore came out of nowhere, he covered him with the light bed covering, snuggled up against him and likewise fell asleep.

A couple of hours later, Armie woke, Timothy was fast asleep. Armie checked the time, nearly seven pm, he had to get up. He showered and left Timothy still sleeping, kissed him gently and texted him.

‘I love you.’

‘You were gone longer than we thought.’

‘Sorry, one of the group invited me out for something to eat, we went to a café and got talking. I think I left my phone somewhere, it’s probably in the glove compartment of the car. I don’t normally take it into the prison. I should have called.’

Timothy had given him back his old phone in the car, his new phone had mistakenly been left in there, in the door well. He wasn’t sure what to do, the new phone was set up with all of his accounts, at least it had his calendar and contacts, he had kept his old Gmail account and associated his contacts with this account. He could log on and pick up his messages and check his contacts’ details. Then he thought there was security in keeping both phones, one that he used specifically for Timothy, the other for everyone else – that was best and safest. He would not post anything to the wrong account. Whilst he was working this out, he was gone a long time in his head.

‘…Sorry, I wasn’t sure if I had left it in the car, I was running through in my mind where I might have left it…I’ll need to contact him, we are working together and he might not be there next week.’

Timothy was not attending every session, neither was he. He didn’t know why he said what he said. He was jeopardising their opportunities to be together. He better shut up. This needed to be managed, it prompted him to keep the fact that he did actually have a phone on him to himself. His religious colleagues did not need know about it, so he wasn’t going to tell them. It made him realise that this situation had to be handled and managed better than last time. They only had up to December to provide opportunities for Sundays, and they needed cover for weekdays. Timothy had to give immediate notice, if he went to the apartment regularly eventually someone would recognise him it was very evident to him that they needed their own place. He still hadn’t spoken fully with Vic. He called him; he wanted some advice.

‘What’s up?’

‘Not much, getting settled. We had our first workshop today; it was very good.’

Vic heard something in his voice.

‘What have you been up to?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Why did you answer nothing? Come on that means something with you…who was in the workshop? Someone you know I bet. Who was there?’

Armie was between a rock and a hard place, he couldn’t lie to Vic. He needed him to be on his side and Vic knew him inside out. He knew that there was someone significant in the workshop, Armie couldn’t keep it out of his body or mind or mouth.

‘Timothy.’

‘The Fuck.’

‘Yes.’

‘Did you know he was going to be there?’

‘Not exactly…I knew he was doing something at the prison. I hadn’t run into him before today…I knew that he was around. It was a very pleasant surprise.’

He tried to keep close to the truth and not tell an actual lie, but he had reckoned without Vic’s long knowledge of him as his brother.

‘Why don’t I believe you? You knew he was going to be, there didn’t you?

‘…Yes.’

Did you fuck him?’

‘…Yes.’

‘What is the worst thing that can happen?’

‘They excommunicate me. More likely they strip me of my priesthood, and I become an ordinary bastard catholic except I still can’t fuck Timothy. I’m only allowed to fuck if I am married…’

‘‘The cursing, Jesus, Armie…’

‘Yeah. I am done with all that holier than thou shit. I have a clean mouth around people I need to be, otherwise I am revisiting real life…’

Vic laughed.

‘Yeah. I learnt a lot during the time that was away from Timothy, primarily that this was not something that was going to go away. I knew I would see him again. If he hadn’t come to California, I would have found a way to him, however long that took. We are destined. He makes my body sing, and it is not a quiet gentle song.’

Vic fell quiet. This was beyond his experience. The old, well young version of Armie was in control and would not be gainsaid, when he was this determined and confident it was well to leave him alone, things would work out as they would, he would take whatever punishment that came his way, and then he would carry on with whatever he had committed himself to. Vic didn’t think that his church elders really understood, at some point they would find out and that was going to be interesting.

‘Armie what do you want?’

‘I want some money out of my trust. I need my own place, if I am going to see Timothy we need somewhere private. Timothy can live in it…we need somewhere where nobody is watching us.

Now Vic was worried, the deceit required was going off the scale of his comfort.

‘What are you going to tell Dad? You can’t move out of the Priory or Jesuit house, can you?’

‘The truth. I need my own privacy. I have had it with dorms and priories. I can’t move out, but I have to have somewhere else we can go. I can’t own it and I don’t have the money to support Timothy in a mortgage. The church takes most of my salary, I can provide a deposit through the trust, and he will have to fund the difference.’

‘Are you going to sign over the house or apartment to him? Cos’ you know Dad is not going to buy that.’

‘It might have to go into your name or remain in trust.’

‘I don’t want anything to do with your love nest.’

‘It’s not a fucking love nest, it will be a home.’

‘OK…OK, it will have to stay in a trust, Timothy can pay rent and that will pay the mortgage. It can be treated as an investment…let me see what I can do. I’ll talk to Dad when you have finalised this with Timothy, I won’t start a discussion when we don’t know if this is what Timothy really wants…he has a say in this also…You have started to discuss this with him, haven’t you? You really need to make sure he going to be happy with this arrangement…the ownership will be public knowledge.’

Armie tried to remember the conversation…he hadn’t really thought it through at all…


	12. Twelve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie is travelling towards having his cake and eating it. He soon realises that this may be fraught with some difficulty, but he gets help from unexpected quarters. Timothy is also adjusting to Armie's return to his life, he is both a beneficiary and takes the brunt of Armie's discomfort with some aspects of his life. He offers Armie advice too.

“Non est ad astra mollis e terris via"

"There is no easy way from the earth to the stars”

\- Seneca

Father Peter started to drop by and spend the odd evening with Armie, he knew why – Father Richard had probably asked him to keep an eye out. Armie didn’t mind, he was going to be honest with him, within reason.

‘How are you Armie?’

‘I’m good. I like being back in California, my family and some friends are here. It’s good support. The only thing I don’t like is that I have stay at this Priory, I don’t have any privacy.’

‘Armie, I have to ask what privacy you need, you are due to complete your vows in a few years which demand poverty, chastity and obedience. You have nothing to hide, your life is devoted to Christ and within that it is given that the Jesuit life requires you to live openly in a community of some sort. There are exceptions, but you are not studying anything that requires you to live away from the community, you don’t work away from the Priory, so what is this thing about? Privacy is part of obedience, you are obliged to live amongst the community of Priests or those following Orders. What do you want?’

‘We spoke about this before I entered training…’

‘Armie what are you saying?’

‘Do I have to spell it out?’

Father Peter had a ‘what the fuck’ look on his face.

‘I can’t discuss anything like that with you, you should speak with your mentor or the Bishop.’

‘Why would I do that?’

‘Armie, it is childish to challenge with no other objective than to cause disruption. If you want help with whatever it is you are having difficulty with, there are many resources within the church. Counselling, Therapy…you can take time out…move to another part of California or even go out of state again. In fact that might be the best thing for you. Move away from whatever temptation you are…might be facing. You are not being clear and I don’t want to draw an incorrect conclusion.’

‘What are you doing here?’

‘I am your old family priest, I have come to see someone who I know well and who I care for, emotionally and spiritually.’

‘I think you have other reasons to be here. I would like to be honest with you, but I need you to be honest with me.’

Father Peter was shocked into silence. Armie was not obedient. If this was consistent behaviour, then he was not being obedient in other realms of his life.

‘Armie have you confessed your sins and made reconciliation?’

‘Yes, last week.’

‘Is there anything that you have done since that confession that you might want to discuss and reconcile.’

‘No.’

‘Have you been obedient to the laws and customs of the church and your vocation?’

‘Well, that is where we may need to disagree…’

‘This might be a good time to pray.’

Armie snorted in derision.

‘Be my guest. I won’t be joining you.’

At which point Father Peter left. As he was about to go out of the door, he turned round and spoke.

‘Armie be careful. We are a forgiving body, but patience may be at a premium.’

Armie watched him as he walked out the door and went and locked it behind him. He went to his bed and lay on it. He wasn’t angry, he felt uneasy a sense of dissonance that he did not know what to do with. He got up, walked around the room, stood on his feet for a good while while unformed thoughts went through his head, got his jacket and keys, and drove to Timothy. When he got to the building, he buzzed Timothy’s apartment number at the garage door. The video screen was grainy, and did not show clearly who it was, Timothy was not expecting him and did not immediately recognise him, only when he heard the voice did he buzz him in.

‘I don’t want a lecture or discussion.’

He pressed forward and pulled Timothy in his arms trying to kiss him and maul him. Timothy resisted and pressed a hand against his chest, separating them.

‘OK…Why don’t we talk first, then we can do the sex business.

You can’t just walk in here and try to initiate sex. We haven’t spoken properly since New York, it’s a bit much to rush in and try it with me, remember, you left me. It’s been over a year since we spoke properly. We need to have establish what we are doing, it’s not all about what you want…I know that is what you feel you need, but it cannot work that way, saying you love me doesn’t meant you can come in and do what you want. If this is something that we are doing together and we want the relationship to work, we can’t do things on only your terms.’

Armie sat in an armchair. His conversation with Father Peter was coming back to him, the fog was clearing, sense and propriety returned, he was being a childish demanding idiot and Timothy was right to tell him, acknowledgement rose with the return of clarity, he still had things he had work through. He got up.

‘I’ll call you.’

He left and drove back to the Priory. And called Father Peter.

‘Is there someone independent of the church I can speak to?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

The Bishop called him the next day.

‘Armie, come and talk with me. I hear good things about you, in fact everyone who comes into contact with you is happy with your input and enthusiasm. I think I can help you, I’d like to talk with you about where you are going in life and your vocation. We need young people like you, sometimes a little help is needed to work out how best to approach difficulties in our life. The priesthood is not and will not be easy, you have to be very clear about what is required and how to live right. I’m here to support and guide you, I can help with whatever you need to meet your vocation.’

Armie wanted to speak but held his tongue, the Bishops’s words had put him back on edge, he felt ungrateful and also felt the sting, he was not young and he did not care for the way he was being spoken to. Nobody could tell him what was best for him. Nobody really understood what he was going through. He did not recognise it but he felt it; Armie was going through a phase of insolence which all thinking people go through, digesting what has been taught, turning it round and re-presenting it for eating, reformed mashed up indigestible. There are two ways these types of things can go, compliance, conformity and tradition, or questioning rejecting insolence. Belief is a given, because belief runs through the thought or deed; insolence is underpinned with truth, a period of rebellion in order to go forward on the right path. It is possible to float above the water’s edge and still tread on solid ground because what is below and out of sight supports the whole entity. And in this way Armie was intending to live two lives.

Schism is pure unhappiness brought into action, and leaders have two choices: enforce or tolerate, there are laws, rules and guidance, what is written cannot be ignored. And yet Schism does not dictate or demand separation. A fissure is not reason for destruction. The church recognises this and walked around the written word of God because all men are imperfect in action, and no one man may rule another, however they may try. Armie set his face against the church, a church which in the past had welcomed and offered succour to him. And yet the desire to fulfil his vocation was strong within him, and left him able to recognise that he was playing with fire, a fire through which he was going to walk through unscathed. He set up a time to meet the bishop, a dinner at the Bishop’s house the following week, just the two of them a time for reconciliation with himself and the church, adjustment and forgiveness for him by the Bishop, clear and marked out in his head. He’d keep his Jesuit Provincial out of this. No need to cause more waves. He was attached to a church, the Bishop held sway.

He stayed away from Timothy wanting to come to his meeting free of all sin. He wasn’t going to confess, he could bide his time, he might still get all that he wanted.

He was quite open with his room-mates, speaking of the meeting in quite truthful terms, leaving things open by saying he was seeking personal advice, help settling in, and guidance on his career. They did not quite swallow it, Armie was different and evasive. He was his normal friendly and very helpful self, they could not fault him for his companionship or his dedication to his vocation, but they recognised there was something else going on with him and so they did not question him too deeply about his time outside the Priory nor the family friends he claimed to have and needed to visit. The head of the Priory looked out for him discreetly, was friendly and checked in with him on his actual work and his voluntary work Armie liked Father Desmond and did not want to lie to him, so kept out of his way.

When he arrived at the Bishop’s for dinner Father Desmond was sat there, he felt ambushed and ungraciously said so.

‘We live in a community Armie, you must expect that you are observed and that someone will be looking to help you fulfil your potential. Father Desmond has a good deal of experience dealing with colleagues who struggle with their vocation, people who have been in similar situations to yourself.’

All sense of holding back and biding time went unconsidered, internal rage filled the space where composure had previously reigned.

‘What do you mean similar situation to myself? People who want to have sex? I fell in love. I love my partner, I can’t give him up. I spent a year away from him and it has made no difference to how I feel, when I saw him again I felt for him as when I last saw him last. I am not in denial about what this is, I have spent a lot of time with him. I know him intellectually as well as physically and I am not going to give him up. I spent a year away from him and I got used to living within the constraints of my life but you better understand I am a better person when he is around and I will serve Christ better if he is around.’

‘Armie, the priesthood requires celibacy and obedience, how are you going to be in a relationship and be a priest? You should not even be talking to us about this, it should be your Jesuit mentor or Father of the House. We are here to help you, listen to what we have to say.’

Armie closed off, he didn’t have to do anything they suggested. They could fuck off.

‘Many priests maintain relationships alongside their vocation.’

A fire ran up Armie’s back.

‘It is not a viable or acceptable position, but we are realistic. You are no danger to anyone else and we know you are committed to Timothy. Yes, we know who he is, we knew when we took you on. The difficulty we have is that we have to hide your relationship, that requires deceit and does not sit well with us. We recognise that you are not going to give him up, and to put you in a situation where you constantly move around, or create situations that make it difficult for you to see him is pointless, and will inevitably mean that either you suffer or leave. Isn’t that the case? You will leave the church?’

‘I have no intention of leaving the church. I hope that the Pope will find a way to allow some of the clergy to remain in committed relationships, there is work in that area.’

‘That is for men who are married, are Christian and want to stay committed and within faith. It is very unlikely he will look into allowing committed same sex relationships. We know they exist, many like your own are discreet and are couples who manage to live happy fulfilled lives. That is what we want for you Armie.’

Armie’s head jerked up, he looked fully into the Bishop’s face. 

‘Father Henry, what are you saying to me?’

‘Do I have explain in very plain language? Come on Armie you are intelligent, what do you think I am saying to you?’

Armie looked again into his face, looking for lies or trickery, instead he met a bland and smiling face.

Armie turned away to look through a window even though the curtain was closed, he smiled to himself. Fucking hypocrites. He turned back to his audience.

‘How is this going to be set up?’

‘We are not setting up anything for you Armie and we will not get involved in whatever you choose to do. All we are saying is that we acknowledge how difficult it is to maintain celibacy in these modern times when the world is very open to us through social media. We cannot ban its usage, we use it to promulgate the truth and our way of life, it has two sides one which is open and neutral if used wisely the other a constant underlying threat. We expect you to behave wisely and to seek our counsel if you need it. I will say that the future is uncertain, change may come unbidden and you will have to deal with whatever arises. Some are not so understanding, you may have to find your own way.

Now, we set out our point of view, we will continue to dinner. Sister Flora has prepared a modest but substantial meal. I hope you enjoy it.’

The Bishop did not flaunt the church’s wealth, the food was solid, a beef stew, potatoes, carrots and spring greens, dessert a piece of cake with ice cream both home made, it was all delicious and not ostentatious. The house was modest, a four bedroom town house, on an ordinary street, albeit gated, housing the Bishop, Sister Flora and a variety of visitors; one bedroom big enough to host most guests, the last converted to an office off the Bishop’s bedroom so he had privacy and quiet to work in. Other work was carried out in his town office. He was in the loft or roof headspace, the floor containing his bedroom, office and a simple shower room; Sister Flora on the next floor in what was the main bedroom, the visitor’s bedroom come storage room and the main bathroom. Downstairs was the kitchen, a dining room large enough to host a couple of bookcases with a mixture of knick knacks and books, and a sitting room with comfy armchairs and sofa, a television and sound system, the bishop was a fan of vinyl records and would spend his spare time lying in an armchair listening to music on top of the range speakers and amplifiers. He was a man of simple pleasures and he understood desire. He talked to Armie and he spoke with him as a fellow man, Armie began to soften and began to interact with him, he was a confidante and colleague, and Armie began to to see how he needed this support, the teaching was one thing, real life was another. Dinner was done by ten, Armie took his leave warmly shaking the hand of both men and promising to talk and keep them in touch with his life, he would not need to go into detail, and he might not need to buy a hideaway. Timothy would need to move into a more discreet building, he might have to use some of his inheritance, that was a different story or not as the case might be.

‘Let me in, I want to talk to you.’

‘What do you want? You can’t just come on the off chance of a fuck.’

‘Timothy let me in. Look I apologise for the other day, I was…distraught…please Timothy…I need to talk to you…’

When he was let in he gathered Timothy in his arms and kissed him gently, then just held him. Timothy was unresponsive until he was sure no further advances would be made, then relaxed and held him with equal fervour. For a long time they just held each other like this was the first time. Timothy lifted his head and spoke.

‘Now I feel like I have you, you’ve come back to me. Come, let’s go to bed.’

Armie did not argue, when Timothy took his hand and led him to bed he allowed no thoughts about how things should be. They did not shower or prepare for sex, just brushed teeth and got into bed, and slept, each other was a home and they rested and put the outside world away.

In the morning, Armie woke with an erection. He sidled close to Timothy and whispered in his ear, lifting his leg over Timothy’s warm body then pressing his groin into ass. He hardened and pressed closer. A mixture of wanting to piss and to fuck heightened his pleasure in his body’s reaction.

‘Wake up I want to fuck you…’

‘Give me a moment, I wanna piss… and I’m gonna bring you something to clean your mouth’

Armie followed him and went to the bathroom first. When Timothy came back, Armie lay back against the pillows, the covers were thrown back, he was naked. He ate the piece of fruit Timothy fed him and while eating his dick remained hard, he took it in his hand and applied a small amount of lube. He swallowed. His hand was easily sliding up and slowly down.

‘Get on.’

Timothy straddled him, leaned forward and began to kiss him, his hands brushing his body then squeezing and rolling a nipple. Armie lay back and let him, breath heavy. Timothy bent his head and began to suck on the swollen nipple.

‘Fuck, suck it harder.’

Timothy obliged, his hand drifted down and took a firm grip of Armie’s cock, and began to stroke it up and down.

‘Give me your tongue.’

Armie opened his mouth, and Timothy began to suck his mouth and kiss him deeply, the hand began to roughly pull on him.

Armie opened himself up to anything that Timothy wanted to give him. He lay back.

‘Do anything you want.’

Timothy continued to kiss him, then rolled down him, pulling his dick and inviting him to roll his body down between his open legs.

‘Fuck me Armie.’

Armie needed no further invite, he positioned himself and prepared Timothy.

‘Is that alright…’

‘Yes Armie, I’m… ready…’

Armie took his time, gently kissing Timothy, then making his intentions very clear. His tongue pressed deep inside Timothy’s mouth, he raised himself and holding Timothy very closely began to kiss him with heartfelt desire, and Timothy felt it and understood and gave back everything he was given. Armie placed the tip of his cock at Timothy’s hole, he pressed inwards and just entered him, Timothy clenched on him squeezing the head with his body, they stayed in that position.

‘Fuck, that is killing me’

They continued kissing, Armie began pressing kisses down Timothy’s neck, letting go so he could raise his arm and taking a deep sniff begin to lick the hair that lay there, satisfied, he licked a stripe down his ribs, round his soft belly and against the lay of the light strip of hair, nuzzled the hairline, tongue drifting down further into the crease of thigh and body he looked up. Timothy’s eyes were closed, Armie stopped and waited, Timothy’s eyes opened hazy, dimmed with desire. Armie’s hand drifted down and lifted one of Timothy’s legs, he pressed it outwards and opened him up, pressing himself against Timothy’s cock and with this movement, pushed right inside him, eyes locked and waited.

‘Do you feel that? How hard I am for you.’

‘Yes…’

‘Do you know how much I want and desire you?’

Timothy nodded softly.

‘As much as I want you Armie.’

As Armie began to gently rock into him, Timothy began to lose his mind. Armie realised what was happening, he wanted to prolong Timothy’s pleasure and he wanted to draw out his own. He withdrew and laid his cock alongside Timothy’s, brushing and teasing the hard flesh with his own, and started kissing him again. Timothy shuddered.

‘Fuck me Armie, please, I want you to…’

Armie ignored him, held onto his leg, slipped down and started to suck Timothy’s cock which stiffened and hardened, he held on lips circling, tongue swiping and took his index finger and pressed inside Timothy and began to search for his sweet spot. When he found it, he released the leg and switched hands, searching for the same place, he knew when he had reached it because Timothy keened. He reached up and began to kiss Timothy who was overcome.

‘Open your legs.’

Armie slid back down, lifted the same leg and began to lick, swipe, eat and bite the tender soft space between balls and hole, dragged his tongue down, swiping across, down and up the delicate flesh around the circle of his hole, shaped it hard and pressed into Timothy who groaned.

‘Please Armie.’

Armie raised himself off Timothy and took his own dick in hand, it had softened but as he held it it became alive and hardened in anticipation. He held it in position and surged into Timothy’s body and began to fuck him in earnest. And Timothy huffed and drew him into his body, and they both remembered how it could be and the world went away.

Afterwards Armie showered.

‘I have to go to work. I am coming back here tonight.’

‘Armie…’

‘I’ll be back by 4.30pm, I have to go back to the Priory for dinner, so I won’t be staying long. I won’t be wanting food. After today, I can’t come back until the next workshop. So…’

‘OK’.

The day was a write off for both of them, their colleagues noticed, Armie had on the same ruffled clothes as the day before, he explained it away by saying that he was tired and dishevelled because he had not slept well. Timothy just smirked away at any questions. He was blissfully tired and he did not want to hide it.

At 4.20pm Armie was buzzed in and they did not even speak, just retired to bed. This time, they spoke of all things, Timothy was laying in Armie’s arms, they spoke as long time lovers, of the day and days past and began to broach the subject of what their future held, recognising that uncertainty tainted their lives.

‘When can you move out of here, I can’t keep coming back it’s too open.’

‘I know, I have some time tomorrow, nothing planned so I am going to log onto some sites and book some appointments…Armie, I don’t have that much money. I have some thousands, enough to see me through a few years but not enough if I am going to have to rent somewhere more exclusive.’

‘I might be able to help…I have some money in a trust. I need to talk to my father and brother. In fact I have already spoken to Vic. He has an investment property…well he lives in it now, he’s taken out all of his money…I can’t live in any property we buy but I might be able to take enough out of the trust to get a mortgage and you could move in and pay rent to cover the mortgage. I don’t have access to much cash.’

Timothy fell quiet. 

‘That’s a lot to take in. Can I think about it? Look…what I’ll do is find somewhere a bit further out, the travel times won’t make much difference we both have cars…I don’t know…what you are talking about makes me feel a bit like I’m your side piece…you know like I am being set up especially for you to visit. I don’t want that, it’s my home, somewhere where you come to visit me, not somewhere where I am…I don’t know…let me think about it. I want it to be our home…not somewhere where we fuck…does that make sense?’

Now Armie was conflicted. This was a big step and he had not thought it through properly. Might be best to leave things as they were, or let Timothy decide how he wanted to handle it.

‘OK. I need to think this through too. I still think you should move…A home together, is that what you want?’

‘How much longer can you stay? We need to discuss this properly.’

‘I have to be gone in fifteen minutes. Can we discuss after the workshop?

The workshop was on Sunday, it was Wednesday.

‘Use the phone Armie, we can FaceTime or Whatsapp.’

Armie nodded assent and got up.

‘Look I have to go’, He bent and kneeled on the bed brushing a light kiss over Timothy’s lips.

‘Will speak tonight OK?’ He got a tense smile and an inflection of the head.

He bent again and this time pressed a very deep kiss into Timothy’s mouth, a goodbye and was gone.

And so they settled into a routine, a night and Sunday afternoon and evening spent together. His colleagues at the Priory turned a blind eye, and in turn Armie took up more duties at church, running the Children’s monthly service and taking a service during the week and he scheduled his weekly evening and night with Timothy around the dates of this weekly service. He also took up some of the administration of the parish and by so involving himself, he hardly had any other time to himself, eventually capitulating and insisting to himself that one evening in the week and Saturday were solely for his rest and study, he still had to study for his PhD, so took time after to school spending an hour each day on his research and reading.

Over the next six months, Armie and Timothy were discreet, Timothy kept his eye out for a suitable place which would essentially be theirs and private. A month after beginning his search he came across a card in his local coffee shop, someone was offering a small house somewhat out of town, and if he was truthful not somewhere where he could easily bring friends. It was in a diverse area, the people out there were not poor and most nearly everyone was in jobs but it couldn’t be described as middle class and when he mentioned where he lived his actor friends would look at him, so he stopped telling them. But it was perfect for him and Armie because everyone minded their own business and yet looked out for their neighbours, if they hadn’t seen Armie in a couple of weeks there would be discreet questioning along the lines of ‘Where is that fine young man that visits?’. Timothy was not sufficiently known well enough to draw attention. The house didn’t look out of place but the interior was well kept and the furniture up to date and clean. The house hadn’t been remodelled, all the old structure had been kept but the fixtures were modern. It meant some of the rooms were small, Timothy didn’t mind it kept the house cosy and sized for a couple or small family. He had a sitting room, an eat in kitchen, one good sized bedroom, a large single room and a small single at the front that he used more like an office. The bathroom was big enough for a shower and bath with separate toilet facilities, the bathroom facilities were the only rooms that had been knocked together out of multiple rooms, claiming space from the large single room which had formerly been a large double bedroom and an old cupboard in the former bathroom.

If Timothy had to go away his neighbour would take a key and keep an eye out. When he got the house, he wondered why it was unlet for a while. He soon realised that the owner was waiting for the right person to appear, when he was asked to view the house he later understood why the next door neighbour was the one to meet and show him round the house. In time they all knew his relationship was important and also that there was something interesting about it, but everyone had their own thing to take care of, everyone needed to work hard and no-one held up a finger or looked at him like he was shit. They had their own issues to deal with, so so long as neighbours didn’t interfere with other people and could listen without judgement, they were accepted. Timothy in turn immersed himself in the community, offering to help at the community centre when he could, and mentoring a few young men at high school as part of their work experience, he was of the community and dependent on it. The community liked this, and they protected their own. He was discreet and his privacy was treated with respect.

When Armie visited he wore nothing of his religious life, he would dress like an ‘ordinary’ person, jeans or chinos, hoodies, t-shirts or casual shirts, he looked like someone serious who was trying to be unnoticeable. Timmy had tried to persuade him how to dress but it was hopeless, he looked like a suburban Dad. His frame was tall and rangy, slim with broad shoulders and long legs, when Timothy had first met him he had carried a little more weight which he had lost during their first troubles and then kept off. Their cares had left a mark, Armie was watchful and it showed in his face, he was guarded and so in turn his look became spare and aesthetic, and, still very attractive. His belief shown through him, and together with the love he had for Timothy his aura burned very bright. It came to Timothy that what was needed wasn’t for him to hide, he needed to dress well and simply. He tried again and succeeded, buying him a kind of mid-level, non-designer uniform of navy, dark brown and black casual trousers, toning t-shirts, shirts and plain sweaters, a costume which Armie built on, he gave everything else away and the suburban dad look went out of the window. His new look brought Armie attention, he had to learn how to hide again, but he did not change his outfits.

If Timothee needed to attend upscale events or premieres he would book a room in a motel or hotel in LA, there was no need to go all glam in his neighbourhood, day to day he wore jeans and t-shirts, they fit his style, and he would tell Althea, his neighbour, that he was working in town and needed to stay overnight. In this way, Timothy protected himself and Armie, there was harmless deceit and deceit designed to harm others, he knew which side he was on. Armie would draw up in his five year old car, a basic SUV, and taking care not to appear out of the ordinary but also not hide his actual appearance or attractiveness when he got out and walked up the path. He did what he could to reduce his impact. It worked for them and they were increasingly very happy, they would occasionally book a room at an motel and in that way Armie was not a constant presence at their home on the same days, anyone watching could not predict when Armie might turn up, they only knew that he was a fairly regular visitor who from time to time stayed over.

Giselle was thirty-five and attended church regularly, she also assisted with Children’s services and events and so she came into Armie’s orbit. She was a pleasant woman, kind and patient the children liked her and so did their parents. A teacher, like Armie, they had things in common both in work and in their religious life so they got speaking and Armie would sometimes have a quick sandwich with her before he left for the prison or they would meet to discuss the monthly service and outings because Giselle sorted out the chaperones schedule and would help Armie out if at any time he was left with the children by himself. Armie was friendly and polite, he took an interest in her because he felt that she would appreciate it, her life appeared to be quiet, she was discreet and did not gossip. When the other women ganged up on Father Desmond, she kept well out of it, Armie liked her.

Then Giselle asked Armie to a party. She framed it as needing someone to escort her, just as friends, someone to come with her to an Aunt’s seventieth’s birthday in their local church’s hall. The Aunt’s family belonged to a strict catholic church with a burn them in hell pastor. Armie would not go. He let her down gently, confessing that he did not do parties and that he hoped that she would enjoy herself. She bought him a piece of the birthday cake. Still Armie would not humour her. He became careful around her, choosing not to have lunch and asking one of the mothers to help out with chaperoning duties. He built up the group of helpers and made sure that he was never left with her alone and if in conversation would bring in other members of the group. He was just as polite and he enquired news of her family and her life outside church. He did not exclude her from his company.

One day they happened to be in the presbytery, where scholarly papers, bibles, pamphlets, hymn books and other material for services were stored, together with sections of the service used for special times of year. Armie reached up to an upper shelf and felt a hand on his back. He was shocked and moved away from the hand. Giselle was looking at him with very bright tawny eyes, she was dark haired, a good curvy figure hidden under a variety of plain sweaters and midi skirts with boots. The boots gave her away, the heels were never less than two inches and quite often higher, and she could walk in them in a way which was effortless and showed the swing of her hips. Armie had been treated to the swinging hips on more than one occasion, on another occasion she had bent over to reveal the tops of her slim legs. Giselle liked men, but she was somewhat only interested in difficult to obtain men and Armie was finding this out. The week before, she had placed a hand to stop him going out of the church, he dismissed it but he could not dismiss the hand on his back because it was possessive and stroked him. When he looked back he could begin to see how she had been basically hunting him down from the day he had changed his schedule and become more involved in the church.

‘Giselle, it’s shameful for you to behave like this. It is not something that I expect of you.’

A little smile passed across her face and faded unpleasantly.

‘I can’t lie Armie I would like to know you better. You’ve been ignoring me and I need talk to you alone. You’re an attractive man…you’re healthy…you can’t tell me you don’t have physical needs…’

‘Sorry Giselle, I like you and I appreciate the help you have given me…I don’t know what you expect to happen.’

‘I don’t expect anything Armie…I know what I want…what I need from you…’

And she came towards him, Armie held his ground, a form of standing up to her, he felt lucky this was the first time that he had had to deal with a situation like this. He took his courage in his hands steeled himself and was about to open his mouth to talk to her when Giselle gathered up her confidence and threw it at him.

‘This is the first time you had something like this happen?’

She chuckled quietly, certain and confident.

‘It won’t be the last time. You have changed the way you dress, it’s austere but all you have done is thrown down a challenge, and I like a challenge, anytime you want to talk, call me.’

She turned on her heeled boots and walked out of the presbytery. Armie laid back against the cupboard he had been reaching into, a little breathless. His first thought was to call Timothy for reassurance. Then he realised he still had the Sunday School session to run, and he couldn’t get out of danger by going to a workshop. His time working with the actors was over, they were now in the process of refining characters, this was now Timothy’s arena. His reading and comprehension groups had closed for the duration and would start again with the new School term in the Autumn, it was June the play was due to be performed in July, he only had a few weeks of school left. He would have a fair amount of free time, and he was thinking about how to spend it and knew who he wanted to spend it with. Giselle crossed his mind again, she had made him upset, he was still upset. He became lost in thought, wondered if had done something to encourage her, could think of nothing, he had even gone as far as distancing himself, he had tried to be subtle, he had re-organised schedules, built barriers by using more helpers, all of that hadn’t worked. Someone walked past the room, it brought him back to the present and he returned to fetching down the children’s workbooks and reading material and then organised himself and the small closed Chapel ready to take the session with the children. He had managed to get through the rest of the morning unscathed, so when Father Desmond called him over after the service he was scared, he could not lie, he was truly scared, he had not anticipated Giselle. He thought he had it all fixed.

‘How are things Armie, I hear praise for you…everywhere you go people like and give thanks for you. You’ve been busy and committed. If you need some time off, just let me know. I can arrange things, we have some property that can be used for a retreat, if you like you can use one for a few days. You’ve been working hard…I think you could do with a break…there’s one with a second bedroom…you could invite a friend…Come and talk to me.

Must go, I need to talk to Giselle. I see she has taken a shine to you. She is harmless, but she likes to attach herself to our young men, just repel her like a good boy, she will get the message eventually. I’m serious about the break, ah! there’s Mrs Marshall, I need to speak with her too, Mary! MARY!’

Armie was not so certain there was a difference between flirtation and intent, and Giselle was erring towards intent. He wasn’t sure how to handle her and wondered who he might talk to. Father Desmond seemed to not take it seriously, Armie did take it seriously because he did not want comparison, or attention, drawn with or to his real relationship. He was being told to tolerate Giselle like it was a given that men and women would be attracted to each other. Armie was angry, Father Desmond was making it difficult for him by treating this situation like it was normal, not to be taken seriously, and Armie had never had any formal training on how to deal with it. The church both accepted these situations arose and perversely did nothing to train the clergy how to deal with women like this. If this carried on he would have no compunction in telling both of them that he was not here for this nonsense. He would not lie, his commitment to the church was not negotiable, neither his relationship with Timothy. If either of them wanted to make his life difficult he would respond in kind. He wanted some respite from circling thoughts and called Timothy to tell him he was coming round.

‘I am spending the rest of day with you, we will go out somewhere before we go home.’

Timothy’s heart lifted, when Armie mentioned home, he knew that he needed him, home was where Armie felt safe and where he was most open in his love for Timothy. It was their sanctuary. When he arrived they went straight out and walked for a while in silence, then…

‘What’s happened?’

Timothy knew him so well.

Armie was feeling sorry for himself.

‘What’s happened?’

‘There’s this woman…I think…she has taken a shine to me.’

Timothy laughed.

‘Is this the first time this has happened to you?’

He laughed some more.

‘You’re lucky, all that has happened is that you haven’t noticed. I’ve had several. I don’t pay them any mind, I’m both polite and avoid them.’

‘She’s been helping me with the children’s services and events at church. I don’t know what to do about it.’

‘Speak to Father Desmond.’

‘He just told me that she is well known for it. His exact words were to “repel her like a good boy”.’

Timmy laughed again and brushed Armie’s arm in consolation. He got close to him.

‘I want to hug you, let’s not spend too much time out on the street. Armie, you will have to find a way of dealing with her. You have a way of signalling that you are not available, don’t you? Are you telling me that no man, or woman, has ever come onto you? If you say no, I won’t know what to think, I certainly will not believe you…’

This gave Armie some pause for thought. It also made him think what it was that really worried him. Was it the attention or was it the consequences?

‘Timothy. I don’t trust her. She has this thing where she is quiet, reserved and pleasant, then she is feeling me up. It is not congruent. She behaved liked it was nothing, almost that I should expect it.’

‘She stroked your back, that is not feeling up, she didn’t touch your ass or your dick?’

‘Her behaviour was inappropriate. If I had done it to her, I would be accused of assaulting both her privacy and her person.’

Timothy could not think of a suitable response to this and so did not respond to these words instead he directed Armie to forget about her.

‘Well I don’t think you can solve it here, let’s go home. I’ll cook you dinner.’

They wheeled round and went back down the same route. They did not need shop, Timothy was always ready for Armie to drop in, he would look after Armie and bring him out of his funk.


	13. Thirteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Interlude

It is the nature of man to build the most complicated cage of rules and regulations in which to trap himself, and then, with equal ingenuity and zest, to bend his brain to the problem of wriggling triumphantly out again.

\- Bridget Ann Henisch

When they got back into the house, Timothy went straight into Armie’s arms, he wanted to make Armie feel comfortable, sufficient to make him forget about Giselle.

‘What are you doing?’

‘It’s my turn.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You know what I mean.’

‘OK…’

Timmy reached up on his toes, placing his arms around Armie’s neck, and just held him close, Armie gathered his arms around his waist pulling him close.

‘What are you going to do to me?’

‘What do you want?’

‘Whatever you care to give me.’

Timothy pulled loose. Got his phone out and appeared to playing around with something, out of nowhere came the sound of soft music with a pulsating beat playing around the room.

‘You’ve been spending money.’

‘Yes, I have. Come here.’

Timothy put his hand on Armie’s waist and pulled on his shirt, pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him.

‘Dance with me.’

‘I don’t know…’

‘Armie I have seen you when you are listening to music…I know you can dance, come here I’ll guide you. Put your arms around me. Get closer, yeah…closer.’

Armie blushed and got hot.

‘What are you blushing for? We have been naked and closer than this. What is the matter with you?’

‘I don’t know…you are making me feel…this is very intimate…I don’t know what to do…’

‘You don’t have to do much…’

Timothy wove himself against Armie, on the beat of the music and began to sing gently into Armie’s neck, then he licked him. And Armie shuddered. Involuntarily, Armie started to press against Timothy, his hips began to seek Timothy’s body, he started to make room so that he could feel him then shifted so that his groin was pressing against Timothy’s hip. He settled and let Timothy take over. The top of Timothy’s hipbone began to press against the soft flesh of his dick, soft flesh which began to grow hard.

Armie bent his head and gently took Timothy’s mouth. He sucked on the upper lip, his tongue began to dart out to taste the lower lip he opened his mouth and Timothy followed him, lips joined Armie pushed his tongue into Timothy’s mouth and began to walk dance him over to the wall. Timothy held him, kept him in the same place, bodies close and waiting.

‘Not yet…We don’t have to get to a conclusion…we haven’t danced enough. Dancing is a pleasure of itself Armie, not all we do has to lead to sex you know. There is pleasure in feeling…not completing the act, enjoying the anticipation. We don’t have to get right down to it yet. I just want to feel you in my arms, to be with you physically without it being about the sex. Not fulfilling desire can be just as satisfying.’

Armie stood still.

‘I don’t know how to do that. What do I have to do?’

‘And sometimes that is how it should be. We don’t need to know everything, there are still things we have to learn about eachother. I want you to experience me Armie, to know me physically, and for me to know you physically. Dancing is a clothed activity. Sex is a naked activity. What we are doing is a clothed activity.’

Armie thought I am going to make a mess of this.

Timothy drew him close again.

‘Hold me.’

Armie started swaying, he let himself go and began to feel the music, closed his eyes and relaxed and Timothy relaxed with him and their bodies edged into the other, formed a whole.

Armie raised his head.

‘Who is this?’

‘Beyonce. Lemonade.’

‘I don’t like the lyrics. The beat is good though.’

The next track was quicker, so they separated. Timothy let loose and was flailing around the room. Armie bounced on the spot and watched him. It turned him on.

Timothy was singing at him. The track was about adultery, Armie was hard. He wanted to fuck him. He could wait. The next track wasn’t slow enough. They began to circle each other, eyes held, before he knew what was happening he was following Timothy, who was still singing at him. The next track came on, Armie sat on the sofa, it was softer strong beat but not for dancing. Timothy danced in front of him, Armie’s hands were alive to the possibility of satisfying his desire, as he watched his body grew on fire.

‘Come and sit by me.’

‘No.’

‘Why not…can’t you see how much I want you…’

‘Yes Armie, I can…come over to me.’

The music had turned into something, something that Armie could tell would get him what he wanted. He stood up and held his arms open, Timothy walked into them, head turned into his neck, Armie began grinding on him. 

‘Fuck Armie…’

Timothy’s arms wrapped around Armie, because of their size difference Armie’s hard cock was rubbing on his stomach, sufficient to get Timothy started in his own journey. He pushed Armie onto the sofa, and straddled him, and began to undo his shirt pulling it clear of his body he started to brush his skin with his fingertips dragging a nail across a nipple Armie gave a sharp intake of breath ‘Do that again’ and Timmy did and sucked on it and Armie’s head went back.

‘Where’s the lube?’ I want you on my cock’

‘You are a man of the cloth…you are getting very vulgar…’

‘Get on’

‘No, it’s my turn. Turn over.’

‘Hang on…’

Armie went to the bathroom. When he came back Armie peeled off his trousers and pants, he’d taken time and done the best to take care of himself for Timothy. It was appreciated. He kneeled on the floor over the sofa. 

‘Your knees will be sore.’

Timothy got him some cushions and for good measure, also laid the throw from the sofa on the floor. Armie turned round and kissed him. Timothy began to stroke his ass, sending long fingers down the muscles in his leg twisting his hands around his thighs, spreading them then bending to kiss them and slide a long lick on the inside of one leg up to his hole and pressed him down and opened him his tongue seeking the place where his dick longed to be kissed his hole tongue pressed inside Armie who groaned.

‘Do you want to fuck me now?’

‘No. Shit…that…oh Christ…’

Timothy had pressed a long finger inside him and pressed inside and began to stroke him inwardly.

‘Open your legs.’

Timothy continued to stroke him internally and pressed against his hole and Armie swayed with pleasure and Timmy rolled against him so Armie was getting harder Timothy bent down again and sucked and kissed and licked his hole and the circle of flesh clenched and sucked in turn and Timothy turned his attention to Armie’s cock and pulled it down, pulling rhythmically, milking him, making him very hard so the cock was standing up and quivering every time he touched him, he let go and stretched his arm round, came from the other side fisting the head to maintain hardness, his other hand guided his cock into Armie who sighed and accepted him.

‘Shall I hold onto you…your dick?’

‘No. Oh fuck, let me see if I can come unhanded…might take longer…’

Timothy pushed him down and aimed his cock downwards and Armie fell slightly because the sensation took him out of reality and into the sensations his body was sending and he relaxed and let Timothy fuck him, and his body opened and then tensed as the orgasm began. And he opened his body again and tensed, and the friction caused his body to try to hold Timothy and to open up and to grasp and eventually he gave up any control and his body began to grip Timothy’s cock with his hole and his hole was a ring of pleasure.

‘Oh fuck…’

And his body began to pulse.

Timothy began to fuck him hard.

Armie fell silent because his body was working out for itself what it needed for release and Armie let go and he allowed his ass to dictate his orgasm which rose up behind his dick and rose out of it and up his back and his whole body pulsed as it pushed out his release and then Armie really did fall down.

And Timothy fell with him and Armie lay on the floor and Timothy continued to fuck him slowly to his own orgasm and Armie was in no position to do anything about it, his body working though the end of his orgasm and Timothy fucking him his flesh engorged he felt full of Timothy’s being and his orgasm continued and he was overcome so he lay there until some kind of peace was felt in his body and his heart had stopped pumping

When Timothy wanted to pull out he told him to wait. He wanted to hold onto him and then he didn’t and it hurt when Timothy pulled out and he still wanted him back in his body and Timothy obliged until he began to soften and pulled out and that hurt him. Armie rolled Timothy over and kissed him and kissed him.

'Let's go to bed...'


	14. Fourteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things move on and Armie decides to take things into his own hands, but the turn of events does not run entirely to plan.

Right said Armie, two can play at that game. He had been thinking to himself that he should ignore her as Timothy had suggested, and he thought about what Father Desmond had said. Both of them were saying that it was alright for her to behave in that way. Well he would show them both that they were wrong.

He reinstated her to his rotas. And arranged a day out with the children to the Mission, it would be a chance to learn something of the area’s colonial history and was also of religious interest. He set about re-building a friendship with her.

‘We should meet for a coffee to discuss the trip, are you free next Sunday? We could have our meeting after the children's service.'

She looked at him with surprise, not quite certain how to take this change of heart. A flicker across her face, it was laughable, it registered disbelief then plain desire. Internally he was smirking, the language in his head was not polite.

'Sure, shall we have coffee here or down the road at Pret?'

'Probably Pret, if we run over then we won't be throw out of church.'

It was safer too, with people around she was likely to be more respectable in her behaviour. He would wear his cassock. There would be no room for doubt in other people's minds. He knew she would not care either way, it made no difference to her how he was dressed. In the fact she was more likely to become careless if he was dressed in his priestly outfit. He was beginning to think through how to manage the situation. He was beginning to wonder why he had been worrying.

'Can you start thinking about age groups and suitable activities too please?'

He would get her to do most of the work, he knew she would do it just to please him.

He didn't contact her again, the next time he saw her was in church for the service. She shyly came up to him to say hello as he swept into the church. He was preparing for the service and for Father Christopher who was new and assisting. She was early and obviously hoped to speak with him before their meeting.

'I just wanted to have a quick word Armie.'

That was too familiar. He knocked her back.

‘Father Desmond is already here, I need to get ready, I’m not late but I will be if I stop to talk. can’t it wait until the end of the service Giselle? I’ve got to go.’

He walked off, not stopping to see if she had an answer, he didn’t look back, her eyes were following him, he could feel her attention.

At the appointed time, the children were taken out of the main service and into their group for the Children’s Liturgy; Armie had prepared some material and one of the mothers was going to play the piano for a song and hymn, the theme was going to be climate change and how children might contribute to this cause. Giselle was going to work through some material from CAFOD, and there were some colouring sheets. The activities were planned to take around 30 minutes, the group would then re-join the main service. Except Giselle had not had the opportunity to prepare which was why she was trying to get Armie’s attention, there was going to be a shortfall in the time allocated. Armie filled in for her, he led the group in a short story aimed at highlighting to the children the importance of not wasting resources or their time. He used it as a way of indicating that resources included opportunities and that opportunities arose in all sorts of circumstances and in all sorts of way. Some of it went over the childrens’ heads, really it was directed at the adults in the room, one in particular. And it was noted. Giselle sat there variously blushing and mute. 

Afterwards, Father Desmond stopped Armie to ask him if he was staying for the coffee morning which ran directly after the service every week, they sometimes had an informal chat and catch-up.

‘Giselle and I are going down the road for a coffee. We have some things to discuss.’

Father Desmond gave him a pointed look, and a pointed answer.

‘You are welcome to stay here Armie, I have some things I need to do here and Father Jerome is coming to pick up some books, so I’ll be here until at least one, we could go back together.’

He was dropping hints, he knew that Armie normally left church to go to see his ‘friend’. Giselle was standing nearby, she was not part of their conversation but was listening. She came across.

‘Armie and I have things we need to get sorted out for the children’s trip to the Mission, we just thought it might be nice to do this over a coffee.’

‘Father Armand and yourself can carry out the meeting here, there’s no need to go anywhere else.’

Armie contemplated ignoring Father Desmond then thought better, he was more or less sanctioning his relationship with Timothy, he couldn’t afford to upset him. And more importantly he was helping him with Giselle.

‘Miss DeGeneres, you don’t mind staying here do you? You’ll get coffee, possibly even cake, the ladies will get you some.’

The ‘ladies’ were the women who are found in many churches, they are the backbone of the church’s support and Father Desmond’s housekeeper Sister Flora was amongst them, they were covered for refreshments, no need to go anywhere else.

They didn’t go into the coffee morning, they retired to the office in the church hall, Father Desmond stayed in the church, after coffee he was wandering around carrying a variety of things, placing them around the church and occasionally dropping things off in the office. He was in effect keeping an eye on them. Armie and Giselle discussed what form the trip might take and decided to make it based around a theme of rights and responsibilities. The children ranged in age, they would encourage anyone aged eight and upwards, if the younger children wanted to come their parents had to come with them, but they didn’t really want a group bigger than twelve or so. There were certain children they wanted to encourage because of their home circumstances, children from broken homes and a troubled child who had been adopted by a same sex couple, parents and child were making good progress, Armie wanted to help, so their hour went very quickly.

‘Would you like to carry on? We can put together a rough schedule over lunch.’

Giselle’s eyes softened. She was going to get her time with Armie.

‘I’ll just tell Father Desmond that we are leaving, so he can arrange for the hall to be locked up. See you outside.’

He got up, and went outside and texted Timothy.

>Going to lunch with Giselle.

He started to walk towards the church, it was just around the corner. His car was parked down the street some way from the church, it saved time getting out of the car park, and meant he was facing the right way to go to his rightful home, to Timothy’s.

<Really?

Armie picked up a call, he knew who it was without looking.

‘What are you doing? You told me that she was after you, that’s encouraging her, don’t go.’

‘We are making arrangements for the trip to the Mission, we spoke about it, remember?’

‘Don’t be cute. Of course I know you are planning that trip. Do it at the church.’

‘Already spent some time at church, they are just about to lock it up and we are making good progress, so I want to finish making the schedule...’

Timothy jumped in, now clearly annoyed.

‘What about our lunch? I’ve put the chicken on, we were going to have roast chicken for lunch, I’ve prepared all the vegetables, I even made a fucking cake for you.’

‘I will eat it when I come round this evening.’

‘Really?’

‘That’s twice.’

‘What?’

‘Really.’

‘I don’t have time for this.’

The phone clicked off.

Father Desmond was equally incredulous.

‘Lunch?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you serious?’

‘Look, it makes sense, once we have the schedule done there won’t be the need to meet separately, the next meeting will be with the helpers. All the other stuff can be done by email. I won’t be speaking with her on the phone or contacting her other than at church. It will be OK Father Desmond.’

‘Listen, make sure you stay in a public area, no alcohol and tell her what you have just told me. I don’t want any stories coming back to me about her being led astray or being taken advantage of. Am I being clear? You are on a short leash Armie, don’t put yourself in danger.’

But Armie had thought this all through. His plan did carry some risks but if it worked Giselle would leave him alone and so would anyone else who thought he might be fair game.

Armie took her to Pret, very public, not expensive and he would claim it back anyway. She was enervated, very pleased to be out with Armie on a quasi-date. Armie was very polite and referred to her the whole time as Miss Degeneres.

‘You can call me Giselle.’

‘Not really appropriate. Would you call me Father Armand please. What would you like?’

That damped down her ardour. Her face turned serious. They were being looked at, they were an odd couple, she looked around her, the penny began to drop.

‘I might have the crayfish sandwich…have what you want Miss Degeneres, I can recommend the roast chicken salad.’

Despite Armie’s reserved approach, they had a pleasant time and the schedule was fixed. After the meal, they took out their phones, compared calendars, sorted out the date for the trip and noted milestones for the plan on Armie’s iPad. It was all very satisfactory.

‘How are you getting home Miss Degeneres? Shall I get you an Uber?’. 

This again could be put as an expense. They were a walk away from the church, he wasn’t sure if she drove.

‘I’ll walk back, my car is in the church car park…would you like a lift somewhere?’ 

She was optimistic.

‘Thank you but no, I’m going to see a friend. I’m going this way…thanks for all your help…I’ll possibly see you next weekend, I am not sure if I shall be around…but I will be in touch we can sort out the material and helpers list over email. Goodbye, have a good week.’

He didn’t linger, turned and went in the opposite direction. He had some making up to do and another lunch to eat.

Over the next few weeks, he made sure that he spent time with her, was very polite, talked with her, and made it obvious that he wanted to spend time with her. People began to notice and would stand watching out the side of their eyes. 

The day of the Mission trip came around. They had fifteen children, five of them under eight but with parents. As well as Armie and Giselle there were another two sets of parents, so plenty of cover and help. They had hired a small bus, and lunch bags had been donated by the church ladies; they took off around ten aiming to arrive at eleven in time for a private Docent tour especially aimed at the children and their theme. The theme as agreed was the rights of native people and the duty of those more fortunate to be role models, and the responsibility of the fortunate not to take advantage of those who are either ignorant or worse off than others. They paired the children young and older to make them see how this theme could be played out in real life, only the youngest at five was left with his parents.

Armie paired himself with Giselle, he did not wear his cassock but jeans, shirt and sweatshirt, and his fish pin. Again he was very careful with her and referred to her only as Miss Degeneres, and she equally primed, now only referred to him as Father Armand. Armand noted that she still ‘liked’ him but had begun to show that she realised that any interest in him was futile. He gave her nothing but his time and he never touched her. They ate their lunch together and in the afternoon while the group had a short walk around the garden, they walked together. It was time to go home after the children had worked through a themed picture story and heard a fable from a native American, a catholic convert, about the responsibility of everyone to look after the land. He then spoke the history of his people and emphasised that land was important because of ancestors and heritage, not because it was a source of making money. The children were nicely tired, the parents had learnt a good deal, all outcomes successful. Then the bus took them back to the church and by four parents and children had gone home.

‘Would you like a coffee and some cake?’

‘Sorry, I have somewhere to go Miss Degeneres.’

‘Anywhere in particular, or are you trying to avoid me? I am not stupid. You have been very kind but you are very careful with me now, you spend time with me but you give me nothing. I can honestly say that I have not changed my mind about you. I still like you Armie, won’t you at least just have a coffee with me?’

‘Giselle, I am trying to make it clear to you that I have no interest whatsoever in you, I have been polite and patient, what do you want me to do? What can I say to make you understand? Do you think I don’t understand what it is like not have the person you love with you? Look I understand that. Do you think I don’t understand what it is to desire someone and not have them near? I have had that. and I know that I will never have that with you. What do you want me to say? What can I do to make you understand?’

Her face crumbled. 

‘Giselle, I have known true deep love, experienced unsatiated desire. I struggle with this everyday and I know how to deal with this now. I am not going to jeopardise my life and vocation for an affair with you. Do you want to be someone’s guilty secret? Someone who cannot go out publicly with the person she loves, to hide and watch themselves so that they don’t give away how they are feeling or what they are doing? Have you done this before? How many times? Where has it got you?’

‘Is your experience current? Who is it?’

Armie didn’t deflect.

‘I struggle every day with fact that I know how to love someone unequivocally, it doesn’t matter if it current or past, it will never leave me, it is imprinted upon me and not something I can or will give up. That’s all you need to know. I respect you Giselle, respect yourself, find someone who is free to love you in the way you deserve.’

For the next three months, Armie maintained his stance, he never again spoke of his love. They conversed amicably, he made time for her when they were present in church buildings, and he did not contact her outside the church. People stopped noticing them, it became normal. It looked more than it was, it was a superficial relationship and Giselle began finally to accept this, and accepted that Armie would continue to give her nothing, but there was always a light in her eyes when he came near. Christmas came.

‘Come to the midnight mass.’

‘Why?’

‘There’s someone I want you to meet.’

‘Not sure that’s a good idea, I might get recognised.’

‘Nobody knows you, come.’

‘Nope. Definitely not a good idea. Who do you want me to meet?’

‘Giselle.’

‘Like, no.’

‘I’ve got her to a place where she leaves me alone, but she still believes there might be a chance.’

‘No Armie. I am not coming. That is fucking stupid, this woman still wants you and you are going to bring your boyfriend into church and show him around. Are you fucking mad?’

Armie thought it a reasonable request.

‘I’m nearly there with her. She just needs to be tipped over the edge.’

‘What part of no, do you not understand?’

‘Armie old boy, I think it’s time for a catch-up. You’ve been very busy and we haven’t talked for a while. When you get back pop in and see me, OK.’

If Father Desmond was suggesting a meeting then he had no choice but to attend, he’d have to text Timothy. Their Sundays were increasingly disrupted.

‘How are things going Armie?’

Armie was slightly suspicious. The last time Father Desmond had spoken with him formally was in the company of the Bishop, that had been a year ago, they hadn’t had a coffee and chat in a few weeks. A meeting was formal, he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned

‘What’s wrong? You don’t normally want to know how things are going? You see me every day, I am in the church every week. Children’s activities are over-subscribed. I am up to date with my reconciliation. Giselle hardly bothers me. What is it?’

‘Something and nothing Armie, you are right. You have managed things very well, I cannot complain about your church activities, you have been doing very well. Your work is going more than OK. I can see that you are very happy, I don’t need to ask about that side of your life. I just wanted to check how you think things are going with Giselle.’

Armie began to burn up. Sweat sprung from under his arms. He knew the answer.

‘She hasn’t given up, has she?’

‘No Armie.’

‘What has she been saying?’

‘It isn’t what she has been saying Armie, it is what she is doing.’

Now Armie was confused. Giselle had been OK with him, she had been helping out with children, helping with producing the resources, he couldn’t see what was wrong.

‘She is digging around your love life.’

‘What!’

‘She is trying to find out if you are sleeping with another member of the congregation.’

Armie laughed.

‘Is that all? I kind of expected that.’

‘You aren’t worried?’

‘No. I told her I had experienced real love and also unsatisfied desire, she is only trying to find out who it is.’

‘Why did you tell her that Armie? You just made her more curious. She probably thinks if she can work out what attracts you she might be able to show you the same things and that you will turn to her.’

‘I already told her I will never have anything to do with her. I am not going to change how I behave. That will just cause people to start looking at me. I am treating her with kindness and being polite, eventually if she doesn’t stop she will start looking a fool and it will be nothing to do with how I treat her. What else would you advise Father?’

‘I can’t in all honesty say that you can do anything else. It will play out the way it will, I don’t want to interfere unless she disrupts our congregation or takes it outside, because then the Bishop will be obliged to act and that will impact your life Armie. That is what we need to avoid.’ They carried on in this vein for a little while longer, then Armie took his leave. This was now something that he began to feel he had no control over, things were not quite working out the way he had intended.

The following week one of the church ladies approached him.

‘Father Armand, I don’t want to embarrass you, could you step away for a moment? I have something I think you should know.’

‘Of course Christina, how can I help? Would you like to use the office? Or is it something you would like to reconcile?’

‘No Father nothing to reconcile…my life is very boring…I am a good girl now…look this may be nothing but I think it would be best if we spoke privately.’

They went out of the group and into the office. Giselle was watching them closely, Armie caught her watching, discreetly and at the same time intently.

Armie sat the church lady down, she was middle-aged, modest and not given to gossip or extrovertism.

‘Right Christina, what is it?’

‘Giselle. You know she has a crush on you right? I can see you know that. This is not the first time, the last source of her ardour left, he tried being friendly with her but she caused him no end of problems, trying to get him on his own, touching him, spreading rumours. Well, she is better behaved with you, you have spoken with her? Yes?’

Armie nodded, no point in denying what was going on.

‘Well, we don’t want to see you go Father, and a group of us ladies are going to deal with her. Don’t say anything, and you don’t need to say anything more to her. Just know we have your back. These type of women can be a damn nuisance, there’s one in every congregation. I don’t know why she won’t go and find herself a man who is free. This is bullshit. Sorry Father, the cussing is the only thing you can get me for nowadays.’

She laughed.

‘And we have not had this conversation. Understand? If you ever mention this to me or any of the ladies I will deny all knowledge…and reconcile.’ She crossed herself, got up and left the room.

Armie smiled to himself, sat back in his chair and just rested there for a few moments. He was still smiling when he left the room, he didn’t go back, he left the building and went to see Timothy, on the way he bought dinner including a bottle of champagne. This was something to celebrate.

Christina went back to the tea room and went to her group of friends, there were only two women she trusted implicitly to help her with this task. One was Jordan, a straightforward black woman who spoke directly and without compromise, one knew where you were with her. Married with two children and a husband who was devoted to her, she was a settled, calm influence in the church. A key member of the ladies group and well respected by the church leaders and congregation alike, if she was seen supporting a cause, her judgement was trusted and the project more likely to succeed. Her brusque style extended to a dislike of tittle tattle, gossip did not prevail with her so no one passed on gossip but they did pass on thoughts of concern and Giselle’s name came up in conversation more than several times, so she started watching her and she could see what was going on and she spoke to Christina, who then also spoke to Theresa. Theresa was one of those women who seemed to always be on the edge of the group and yet was always involved in what was going on. She was younger and a bridge between the older ladies and those with young children, the same age of Giselle they were friendly but not actually friends, it was Theresa who alerted Jordan because Giselle had started speaking openly to her of her liking of Armie and soon it became clear that this went beyond normal friendship or liking. Theresa didn’t know how to handle it but did know it was something that the elders of the church should know about. She had been around at the time that Sam, the previous junior priest had left, so she knew the stories and like Christina wanted to avoid the same thing happening. Between the three of them they devised a plan.

Without saying why they encouraged another ladies group member, Ruth, to join the Children’s group, Ruth believed in the word of god; the bible and catholic doctrine were the way to goodness, marriage was sacrosanct and priests were Gods put on earth, so nothing should defile them. Armie was charming and pleasant to all women, Ruth could see that he did not in any way encourage them or take interest, sexual or otherwise, in them. She had her suspicions about him, he was too good looking, too attractive for someone training to be a priest and generally too good natured, a bit too good to be true. She did wonder if he leant towards men but that had to be something that she would need proof of, and she saw nothing to build on that theory, there was nothing. There had to be something wrong with him, but the greater wrong was for a member of the church to believe that a priest was fair game. So Ruth watched Giselle and when she tried to get Armie on his own, she stepped in and distracted her or simply joined the conversation and drew the conversation back to the matters in hand. And Christina and Jordan did the same in the wider group, calling her off to join the ladies and reminding her that Father Armand was a busy man with had pressing church matters to deal with.

Theresa sat down to drink tea with her when Christina had taken Armie to one side.

‘He’s looking good isn’t he?’

Giselle looked in her face, judging and gauging the situation, not sure if to answer honestly, working out if it was in her own interest to be non-committal. She decided to be non-commital, it was safer.

‘I can see that, but I also see that he is committed to his vocation.’

‘Yes that is true Giselle, it shines out of him, don’t you think? Still I can appreciate the man as well as the gown, and I see how others are taken with him. Over time it becomes obvious, I see how he is regarded by some. It must be difficult for him. We sometimes forget the importance of keeping a respect for the man and forget to acknowledge that it is the vocation which brought him into our little world, sometimes the two get mixed up…physical attraction supercedes our rational thought and our belief…sorry, that got a bit deep…’

‘He must suffer equally…’

‘Suffer?’

‘He must have needs…’

‘Managing that is part of his vocation, otherwise his life will be hell Giselle, and if he seeks to satisfy those needs as you call them, then he is in for a world of trouble.’

‘What if he has already satisfied them Theresa? He told me that he has.’

‘What!’

‘Yes he told me that he has been in love and that he has felt desire.’

‘What whilst he was here?’

Giselle let silence fall.

‘He may not be as innocent as he makes out.’

‘You haven’t answered me, tell me what you know. What are you accusing him of?’

Giselle realised her mistake.

‘I didn’t say that he had done anything!’

‘Well what are you trying to say? How did you get into such a conversation? You must have been speaking to him of the same thing. What is going on with you and him? I see how much time you spend with him. When did you have to time to discuss if he was in love, and when did this conversation take place?’

‘I wish I hadn’t said anything, forget it Theresa. It isn’t how you make it sound.’

‘I can’t now…now I shall have to monitor his behaviour. What you tell me also calls into doubt his suitability to work with the children. Thanks for informing me. Excuse me, I have to have a word with Jordan.’

Giselle was not stupid, she knew that their conversation would be repeated word for word, and also that it would go out to the ladies of the church. Her name was being associated with Armie, as a lover, what she had desired and had aimed for, but in a way which was not condusive to her aim. It wasn’t her fault that Sam had taken her seriously and fallen in love with her, Sam had gone, there hadn’t been anyone else at church that she found attractive, Armie was the first in a long time, she wasn’t always chasing men. But Armie was different, he told her and held onto a truth, he did not want her, and he never gave her any indication that he had changed his mind. Now the very area of church that they had in common was going to be scrutinised, if he was going to be monitored, she was going to be monitored, Theresa and Jordan would not let this go.

After an unrestful week, she met and was having a coffee with Ruth in Pret on Saturday; Ruth’s children were at their Saturday activities and she had an hour or so before she had to pick them up. They got their coffees and Ruth jumped in with the latest gossip. She was Christian but loved to be the first with gossip, she was well chosen.

‘I heard that there is a woman parishioner who is in love with Father Armand.’

Giselle ran hot, then flushed and stuttered; physically and mentally. Ruth noticed her demeanour had dramatically changed, eventually some form of words came out of Giselle’s mouth.

‘…I don’t know anything about that, who?’

‘I don’t know who, just that it’s only happened recently. She confessed to knowing he was in love and, can you imagine, she apparently said he had needs which she could meet. What sort of person thinks like that? I don’t understand how anyone could even think of Father Armand in that way. He is a doll. So polite, so nice, never in any way dubious. A gent.’

Ruth noticed that Giselle was uncomfortable, fell silent and thought about changing the subject, Giselle had gone mute, a different kind of quiet, unsettled, she could not work out why.

‘What’s the matter?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Come Giselle, you can tell me. Talk to me. I can see you are upset. What’s the matter?’

Giselle got up.

‘Sorry, I forgot I have to fetch a parcel, a gift for my mother, the shop is only open until 12, it’s across town. See you tomorrow.’

Ruth wondered what shop would possibly close at 12 on a Saturday, but let it go. Giselle obviously did not want to discuss this.

‘See you Giselle.’

Giselle had already reached and gone out of the door.

The next day, Giselle came into the church arriving just in time to take a seat, she did not greet anyone, and held her head straight, walking directly to her normal pew position. Theresa gave her a terse smile as she found the seat, Jordan didn’t acknowledge her, the other church ladies turned to look at who had come in, some variously smirked, others turned to their neighbour and had a few quiet words behind their hands. Her secret was out.

She decided to face everyone out, stayed afterwards to have a cup of coffee and a piece of cake. Better to carry on as normal than run away. Armie wasn’t there, he had taken a few days off, it was the mid-term break, he’d gone on a retreat arranged by Father Desmond.

Ruth came over to her, she was genuinely concerned.

‘How are you Giselle? I was worried about you.’

‘I’m OK Ruth. Sorry about yesterday, I had some things I had to sort out.’

The sorting out was thinking about her situation. She was determined not stupid, and the road was running out. Too many people knew or suspected that she had a thing for Armie, she could try to wear him down but that would require subterfuge, she would have to dig around to get more personal details, email or message him about non-church matters, get him alone, do things that were ultimately traceable and ridiculous. Things that meant revealing her hand, if she was caught or spoke to the wrong person it would blow up in her face. She knew he was telling the truth about love and his experience, and suspected the truth was current. There was already someone in his life or that was important to him, he couldn’t hide the way his body reacted, his face and voice were calm and composed but his body gave him away, it gave out a physical recall of experience. In order to get more information she had to give more information and that route was not working out well. People were looking at her, people took interest in them when they were speaking at church. Father Armand made sure that he was never left alone with her now. All of their interaction was formalised and in public. She had played a wrong hand by touching him, by telling others, by talking with him. He was not moved or aroused by her, his eyes did not flash when she spoke in fact they were blank, the rest of his face was animated, his eyes devoid of feeling when they fell on her, he truly gave her nothing which could be interpreted as desire or want. She could keep thinking she had a chance but she had to face facts, Father Armand was not available and furthermore, he was being protected, her heart fell. He was out of reach. She wanted to cry.

‘Come on Giselle, let’s go for a walk.’

Ruth gathered her things, linked arms with Giselle and lead her to the door of the hall.

‘I’m OK. I’ll see you next week.’ She took her things, set her shoulders and walked down the drive. She never returned, all hope of a life with Armie had gone, it was time for pastures new.


	15. Fifteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Time.

I don’t mind being your guilty pleasure for a while…

I don’t mind standing in the shadows for a while…

I don’t mind being the lonely victim for a while…

Cos’ even though you say I am the perfect woman

You also say that you can’t leave your girl

Even though you say that you are happy with your woman

You love me in a parallel world…

Eventually Baby I am going to show you this is real…

Give me the chance to show how this could be…

I don’t mind that you promise to show

But you never come round

That just makes me want you more…

  * Parallel World, Jazz Morley
  * <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dkSPrvFoa8E>

I watched him drift away from me even as he was resolving the situation with Gisele. I have given up a lot for him. I love him dearly, he is truly my other half and being in his profession is a good deal to do with my feeling the way if do about him. It made him the man that he is.

Sometimes it seems that I am no better than Giselle. I have made him break his vows. Twice he has come to me. He does not know how he will manage without me and I don't think he realises how much he depends on me nor I upon him. I love him so much.

I often wonder how things would have been if we had met before he went into training. I am twenty-six he is thirty-three. Not a huge gap but sufficient to put him out of my reach at that time. We met at the right time, right for both of us. It is an ongoing story.

It’s a time for reflection, he was away last week, the whole week, so it was nearly two weeks between our seeing each other. I missed him. In a week or so I will be going to work on Broadway for six months. It wasn’t something I could turn down, the role is perfect, there were three other young actors going for it, they choose me. I had to take it. But when the offer came it made me think. Where am I going in my life? My career is equally as important to me as his is to him. If this play is successful I have to make a decision about how I want to live my life. He is my centre, I work my life around him, I see him when he is available, I carve out time to speak to him or facetime him everyday, regardless of where I am or who I am with. I have friends, I put them on hold when he needs me. I can’t be working and making time for him and making time for them. I see my parents rarely. They want me to come to visit. They would take him as well. But how can he leave for a holiday? He can have breaks, he took the retreat last week. He told me he needed the time. And the space. That hurt. He was stressed. I could see that. I knew that. Giselle put blot on our landscape. The ladies looked after him, she is gone but still here. He worried silently about her, more than he told me. But I knew he was secretly worried, we have not had sex since the ladies started their campaign. He said that he didn’t feel like it, then we never seemed to have the time, our Sundays have virtually gone disrupted by events, that left one or two evenings in the week, he felt we should only meet and he would not stay with me at home. A film, sitting at the back of a concert or high in the balcony of a theatre. Public but hidden, dark spaces like the places in our hearts. Like a blight her influence spread. I saw him rarely in the last month or so. He said things would change, this was temporary and I understood. Once Giselle was broken or gone, things would return to normal. But we do not know normal, the whole time we have been together, nothing has been normal. I want normal. I want to be able to turn a key and know that he is home. I want him in my bed every night. Not the once a week should we? Do you want to? I want to be able to lust over him all night long and know that we will fuck that night. I want to be able to walk on the street with him and hold his elbow, guide him to a place I have chosen for us both, put my hand in the middle of his back and stroke it, show that he belongs to me. Public. Visible. I want to sex him in public, kiss him, stroke his neck, lean on him, own him publicly. I want for him to put his mark on me equally, I want him to own me, so people know that we are together.

I have not given up on him. I used to be able take what he could give me. But the future is coming. I am not hiding, questions are asked. I brush them off. But it is evident. There is someone, they asked who he is. Then stopped asking. A secret, that was obvious.

I can’t see how this is going to work.

I am not recognised automatically, sometimes I know you from somewhere face. I work steadily, nothing major, I still have the soap, a contract but not appearing in every episode, they have given me a sabbatical, I am not recurring. I’ve had a few guest spots in other series, the odd small role in a film. I should do more theatre. It’s steady and I don’t have to play the Hollywood game. Theatre is more forgiving, in fact nobody would give two fucks about a gay couple. Still, how will we live together? The Priest and the Actor, living together blissfully, shacked up in a New York Apartment, or flying up and down the country, instead of driving across town, flying across states.

That can’t work.

I would have to give up my career now or he would have to give up being a priest. He loves that more than he loves me. I am a piece of him, it would hurt if I was taken away, but his vocation is an integral part of him. I watched him when he was helping with the play, it was visceral with him, the need to help others, the belief that that was what he was put on this earth for. He could live without me, he would be miserable but he could do it. I need to tell myself that. He would settle into it. He has a life which could be entirely engrossing, the scar would heal over and be visible, always a memory of what I meant.

How would I manage without him? I don’t know. I have already spent a year away from him, I can honestly say that I just managed. He crept on me, he never left me I always thought we’d find a way. I thought about him and I didn’t. But I had to get on. I did things I regret now. I don’t punish myself and I hope I didn’t punish him for the pain he caused me. It is what it is. I could have stayed in New York not brought my sorry ass down here, those words express how I feel, my sorry ass. That is what this has come to. I could cope when I saw him regularly, when I had the chance to actually touch him and be in his company, the odd meeting every week is not sufficient. I need reassurance. We FaceTime, but that is not the same I need to be near him, like good food, he nourishes me. He always told me he was a better person when he is around me. He doesn’t say it now, and I see him looking at me, trying to work something out, and he doesn’t speak what that thing is. When I ask if anything is wrong, I get an answer that doesn’t fit how he is feeling, I can see it in his face. So I leave it. And that isn’t being honest with myself. I am an honest person, you may question my morals but I know and fully accept what I have done, and I would do the same again to be with him. I am honest, that is something that he loves and accepts about me. I am a certain known thing for him, otherwise he could not do this. For now the times we spend together are cloudy with prescience. He knows what the future holds but cannot or will not speak it; in times like this he expects me to make everything right and I can’t, not this time.

We are over the heat, we should be ready for the next stage, the one where we decide what we are to each other, a good for now or we definitely have a future – its time to settle on something. We went past the can’t get enough of each other phase a long time ago. There’s only so much sex that one can decently have. We couldn’t be come round and jump straight into bed. I couldn’t stand that. We are more than that. We spent time apart to have that and more. The more is the important thing, but we never decided the shape of what the future looked like. It is like peeping behind a glass and realising that we could have seen through it and known what was coming. We are adults we cannot hide behind our hands, our purity has gone. The harsh realities of being together have marred the surface of our glass. Giselle arrived and put a pause on our relationship. We tried to ignore her and what she meant. We talked about her. And then we didn’t talk about her. And she is still in the room.

This time I have had him for two years. We have been lucky Father Desmond is benign and understanding, the Bishop is pragmatic but there is a change, a new Provincial or Jesuit leader for California, he is a traditionalist and thinks that liberal attitude is not the means to stem the outflow of priests. A return to simple practice; mission, service and a hard adherence to celibacy and poverty is espoused. I have to pay attention to this, there are choices to be made on both sides. He will probably have to move into a Jesuit house or dorm, he won’t have the freedom he previously had. He is known. He will be drawn back into his community, this is also stressing him.

Armie has taken his first and simple vows, he is ordained but he still has a few years to his final vows and final acceptance into the Society. He will finish his doctorate and his Regency by time he hits and goes out of his mid-thirties, that is a lot. I want to be around for his final vows, I’ll be around twenty-nine, nearly thirty ready for a final decision.

I think it is time for me to go. 

This is temporary, I hope he understands.

The journey isn’t over, for now we go into a night of unknown duration, but somewhere in our future, daylight is on the horizon.

I better slow down

'Cause I keep keep trippin' on words I don't wanna say…

'Cause I keep keep seein' the signs you want me to stay

I can't commit, I can't make plans

Sometimes the bet ain't worth the hand

I think you're special, it makes me sad

Don't wanna wonder what we could've had…

And I can't keep lettin' this wave carry me away…

I got it bad

I think you know

You're everything, you're beautiful

My life is fast, can't make it slow

We're here right now

Kiss me before I go, but you got to let me go

Don't get your feelings broken for nothin'

Maybe I'm leavin'

Leavin' here with nothin'

I might regret that I can't be your man

Sometimes the bet isn't worth the hand..

  * Bet Ain't Worth the Hand, Leon Bridges/Curtis Mayfield
  * <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uYEGPTFwJDo>


	16. Sixteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alternative view.

I told him that there would a time of pain and separation. I thought it would be me that would be the cause. He left before I was ready but when I already knew he was going and it fucking hurt. I am not going to lie. The break was a long time coming. Things were too good. I enjoyed being with him, the Priest in me was fighting for its life, he didn’t know but Giselle was the cause of a great deal of thinking about what I was doing. I spoke to Father Desmond more than several times. I never told him. I had to make up my mind, and separate to do this. Sex is too distracting even in its absence. It was something that held us together, not the glue, soemthing intrinsic, running in all elements of our relationship, without it things began to fall apart. I knew it would. The closeness we have when we have sex and the aftermath is something I always treasured. I gave myself to him freely and he returned it unguarded, it was the thing that had equal meaning. His love is purer than mine, he loves me all ways round, I love him purely for being him but I have another love and it can’t compete, that sounds hard but it is true. Everything that means something to me, him apart, came before him, my vocation is driven through me, like rods stretching through all parts of me. And he loves me for it, because without it I would not bear the light which he cannot resist. I know him better than I know myself. It’s hard.

He breaks me into my constituent pieces and makes me realise things about myself. I put aside the fact that I am strongly physical, my love for him is nothing without the sex. There it is. I cannot hide it. I want to put my hands on him as soon as I see him, I am ready for him when he comes near and he knows it. That is what I had to master. So I denied him. I don’t have that with anyone else, nor will I. The trouble is you see, in the same way that my faith is bound and running through me, and I speak it physically and verbally, he is in there too. And these elements of me fight. And at some point a decision will have to be made. We cannot go on as things are. Giselle was just a milestone on the journey. I had some things to learn, I have some things to learn. I need to do them separately I can’t do them with him. I am going to be fully ordained and I will take my final vows. 

And at some point I will return to him.


	17. Seventeen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They have parted and have to find ways to deal with this, Timmy has to leave the home he had set up and travel into a new future.

“One of the most beautiful qualities of true friendship is to understand and to be understood.”

\- Seneca

Timothy left for New York and he did not see Armie, once he had made up his mind he decided there was no point. Whilst he was New York he commissioned something for Armie, not so much a keepsake as a thing that encompassed everything he wanted Armie to remember about him. There had been and would always be love between them, they had had trials and tribulations, they had lost and found each other, it was a circle of activity, the love was a circle which bound them together. It seemed a ring was emblematic and fitting. If Armie did not want to wear it, it meant that Armie did not have the same level of love for him and if he did not wear it, it was as well that he would never know. All would be well. He might never know, that was alright too, he had done it in, and with love, his heart was in it. It would be as it would be. He thought carefully about what the ring should look like, how it looked was reflective of what it meant. It had to draw on Armie’s experience and his feelings so he based it on a 16th century Jesuit histogram and on the inside were the words that had initially drawn them together, this time in Latin.

One word

Frees us of all the weight and pain of life:

That word is love.

Unum verbum

Omnis committere pondus dolor vitae

Quod Verbum sit amor.

It fit Armie’s ring finger and it never left his hand.

Armie was in pieces after Timmy left, he thought that that was what he wanted, but reality is different from aspiration. Father Desmond brought the ring to him personally at the Jesuit House he had moved into a week after Timmy had left. He sat with Armie as he opened the little package, he knew who it had come from. When the ring was revealed, Armie sat on his bed and like other times of emotional intensity, he could not help but cry. Father Desmond stood and placed a hand on his shoulder, held his face up and smiled at him, then placed his hand back on his shoulder holding him, an emotional support.

‘He loves you very much.’

He said no more, waited until the tears had receded and left.

Afterwards in the weeks that went past, Armie thought about his own memento for Timmy. It equally had to be something that was not easily taken off his body. It had to be a band, a companion ring which bound them together, a fine white gold ring was made, the same engraved words this time in English. And as with Armie, it fit Timothy’s ring finger and it never left his hand.

They did not contact each other, they had to get on, on with their lives.

Timmy went to New York. He packed up his things, hired a Ford Expedition and planned his drive up to New York. He planned to store some things and move back in with his Mom. His Mom and Dad were separated, not formally more a case of I’ll live here and you’ll live there and we’ll get together when we can. They would not split, they just couldn’t live in the same house together. His father didn’t know as much about his situation with Armie as his mother did, only that he was involved with someone problematic; he was contemplating asking if he could live with his Dad. They could have a man to man chat, he would start fresh with his Dad. Then he realised his Mom was more insightful, he could actually get away with saying nothing because she would ‘understand’, if he went with his Dad, he would expect him to talk about it. He wasn’t due in New York for another couple of weeks, if he went up early he’d get a chance to catch his breath. He’d made a choice, it was best for the time being but he couldn’t kid himself. He wasn’t anywhere near understanding what had just happened. It was not processing. He could get himself around, he managed to pack his things, take the household stuff to his neighbours and goodwill. He’d even had a party and invited his friends and the neighbours. Althea brought her family, and a gift.

‘I wanted to give you something to remember us by.’ She gave him a small brown cardboard box. When he opened it, there was a book, soft brown leather cover, a bible. ‘I think you need this. I noticed you didn’t have one with your other books.’ It was a Catholic bible, and a journal. ‘You can write down your thoughts and learn something too, it will give you comfort.’

‘How did you know?’

‘It was easy. He left some things around, he smells of incense, the scent was on his clothes and he left clothes around the place, once he left his shirt and collar, and he always came at times of a service. We ordinary Christians have church at 10.00. Catholics have three services on a Sunday, early morning, mid-morning, and another for the lunch crowd. If you are observant, it’s easy to work out. Listen, I was not and am not judging. He made you happy. That was the most important thing.’

Timothy gathered her in his arms.

‘Thank you. I will treasure this. It will be a memory of your kindness and the home Armie and I had together. We didn’t have much time together but what we had was worth it.’

‘Take care of yourself Timothy, are you going to your Mom?’

He nodded, he still wasn’t sure if he was, but it was more than likely, he wasn’t ready to talk it through yet, his mother would give him time, probably best he went to her. Althea was the last to leave. As she went through the door, he turned and got another glass of wine and sat down to drink it. He didn’t need it. There wasn’t much to be done, they had used disposable plates and cutlery, the food had come from a caterers. He sat on the sofa where he and Armie had first kissed, where they had held each other for the first time, the first time for many things. The whole house bore some remnant of him. He started to feel sorry for himself, some water was gathering in the corner of an eye, he gave in, if the tears didn’t come now, they would come later and that would be worse. He put the glass down, turned sideways in the chair to lay down and started to really cry. He rose an hour later, the tears hadn’t lasted as long but memories and thoughts were bearing down on him, he ran through their time together, then a smile, rueful, what a mess. But he was lucky, he’d had the best experience. He had to give himself the opportunity to wallow, eventually everything would be alright, for now there would be misery and he had to deal with it.

The trip would take him around seven days, he didn’t want to sit in the car the whole day driving, he checked some routes and worked out that he could spend five or six nights on the road, possibly longer. If he took longer he would arrive when he was actually needed for rehearsals and preparation for the play He needed that time in solitude, time to think without thinking, time away from other people while he gathered himself. He would spend the evenings looking at his script not to completely learn it, just to get familiar, his process being know it well enough to know what fell where but also give himself space to learn it with his fellow actors. He picked up the bible, it was a thoughtful present, chosen with care. He could write his journal in the bible, he wasn’t interested in what the bible said, it was just a way of connecting with Armie, holding him close. A way also to remember the kindness and acceptance of his neighbours. Then he told himself not to be petty, he could also look up daily readings and write the journal against those pages. Who was he kidding? He knew he would start and not finish. He’d find something to do with it, even if it was just read and draw…that was it, he could illustrate it. Truly the thing that had brought Armie into his life would be the thing that he could find comfort in. Decision made it was time to go to bed. He made a hasty tidy up, threw what he could into rubbish bags, stored the bottles by the door, the few things for washing up could be done in the morning. The dishwasher was already full, he put it on. He would hoover and dust too. The chores were nothing to him, he didn’t have a cleaner and was used to making the house tidy and clean, Armie had shown his appreciation so he did it to please him. No-one to please now, then a thought, he could do what he liked…really? He didn’t want that. What is life without someone to care for and to look forward to seeing? His eyes began to prickle again, it really was time for bed.

He showered, brushed his teeth, left his hair until the morning and climbed into bed. And his body began to call him in memory of Armie and he took care of his desire and it was not enjoyable and he took no peace from it, when he finished, he got some tissues and cleaned himself. Turned over and cried himself to sleep. The night was not restful, he dipped in and out of sleep, his mind rolling with many thoughts. Where was Armie? Did he care? Was Armie feeling as bad as him? What would his mother say? Would Will have any sympathy? Everything weighed and chipped silently away at his equilibrium.

The next day he cleaned and vacuumed, got rid of the bottles at a recycle unit, went round the house once more, actually packed the car, double checked the house for windows, doors and things, locked up and dropped off the keys through Althea’s letterbox. And set off back to New York. He didn’t want to spend another evening in the house. It was quite late in the day, he’d drive for a couple of hours, get used to the car and stay at a motel, find a restaurant, have something to eat and retire early ready for the next day. Hopefully he would be so tired he would sleep. At least he had had the forethought to pick the car up at the weekend, he had taken it for two weeks, he should be in New York before it was formally due back, he might have a day or two spare which he could use to cart his things to storage, he might be able to store some things with his Dad who had a house in Brooklyn, that would save him some money until he sorted out where he was really going to live. He had texted them to let them know he had set off, just a few words: ‘Leaving now, see you in a few days.’ Nothing else was needed.

He climbed up into the front, sat for a moment and accepted what was happening, he was leaving behind a life, and going into a new one. He had to look forward. Pressed the pedal, then the starting button and as the engine leapt into life, said goodbye.

He very quickly got onto the 101 and decided to spend the night in Los Angeles, he could had gone to Pasadena but either way his next main stop was Las Vegas and that was at least five hours away, he didn’t want to drive that long. So stopped at an Inn in Los Angeles, more expensive than a motel but better accommodation and food. He arrived after a couple of hours driving, checked in, re-parked the car in the car park closer to his accommodation. And went to his room. It was around seven, he didn’t need to shower or wash, so got out his night things, a pair of pyjamas and his washbag. As he took out the pyjamas he thought of the times when Armie was in his bed, no pyjamas, they were always skin to skin. Once Armie had had sex with him, they never slept in any clothing. They didn’t hide anything from each other once they had had that ultimate closeness. He sighed and hung the pyjamas on the bathroom door to air. Locked his valuables in the safe, got his card, some dollars for a tip, his phone and went to the motel reception.

‘Where do you recommend eating? I don’t want a huge meal just a burger or salad or something simple.’

‘There’s Mo’s, he has simple food, all day breakfast, burgers, fries that kind of thing. Out of here, turn right, down a ways until you come the car workshop and it’s another five or so minutes off to the left. You’ll have to take your car, too far to walk.’

The food was alright, good American fare, plain. He had a beer too. Came back to the room, it was around nine. This time he showered and got into bed, started watching a film, his head nodded a few times, decided this was ridiculous. Got up, checked the doors, set his alarm, drank some water, turned off the centre and wall lights, got into bed, turned off the bedside light and slept. A dead sleep, his body and brain were naturally tired, they gave him rest and he took it. Woke eight hours later, still too early, lay there not quite going off back to sleep, gave up and got up, had a quick wash and brushed his teeth. Checked out, went back to Mo’s had breakfast and from there set out for Las Vegas.

He took his time and travelled steadily, stopped for a cup of coffee, a sandwich and a half an hour stop, and got into Las Vegas around four. The motel he’d chosen was not good, decided that he would spring for a proper hotel, with a proper car park, he was only staying one night and drove onto the main drag. Lucked out at the Bally, they had a promotion on, so he got a double with a king for an off-peak price, but he had to wait an hour for the room. He didn’t mind, he dropped off his backpack and just took out his card, it was very warm, he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea but found the monorail and went underground where it was cool, he walked around some malls and went back to the hotel. His room was ready, so he went up. Not only was it a king bed, he had a much better view, he could see the strip, the Bellagio and glittering lights surrounding the hotel. He was momentarily taken aback perhaps he would stay in the hotel room, he was meant to be learning his script, but he gave himself the night off and had a nap. Woke up, showered and changed into smarter clothes, he would take a walk and perhaps stop off at the hotel bar on his way back. Things went well, he hailed a cab and got a steak at one of the better restaurants, had a couple glasses of wine, and returned to the hotel. He went into the bar, and sat at the end out of the way.

‘I’ll have a bourbon.’

‘Which one Sir?’

‘Surprise me.’

The bartender poured him a Jim Beam, not that special.

‘That was your opportunity. You could have given me something interesting.’

‘You are interesting, you don’t need an interesting drink. What brings you to Vegas?’

Timmy looked into his face, was he being picked up? The bartender hadn’t recognised him, there was no glint in his eye, just friendly curiosity. They chatted very easily for a while. The bartender whose name was Stevie, asked him if he wanted to go somewhere after he had finished his shift. He said yes. He wasn’t going to fuck him or allow himself to be fucked, but he might have a bit of fun. It might take his mind off his problems.

‘How long are you staying?’

‘One night. I am on my way to New York. Back to my Mom’s, have some things to sort out’

That brought him to his senses.

‘Look, sorry to mess you around, I really am not…ready…don’t want to lead…sorry.’

‘I can see you are not quite yourself. We can just have a drink and a dance, no strings. I know how it is. We can dance and take your mind off whatever is bothering you.’

Timmy was very grateful.

‘When do you finish?’

‘Twelve.’

‘I am just going to my room. Be back in half an hour.’

He was true to his word. When he came back Stevie was engrossed in a conversation with another young man. He stepped towards the bar, unsure, scared he had made a mistake, but Stevie caught sight of him and beckoned him over.

‘I’m just going to get my things and sign out, give me your phone number I’ll text you where to meet, can’t meet in reception, there are rules, not supposed to date the guests.’

They met at the staff entrance, which was to the side, an exit out of sight of the main hotel entrance.

‘There’s a bar, used mostly by bar or hotel staff, it’s open all night, it’s not fancy, but they have good beer and good music. Come on.’

They had walked on to the Strip. He called an uber.

‘Mendoza’s please.’ Sorted out the fare, and then continued to chat pleasantly with Timothy.

The cab took them to the Old Vegas, the bar was old-fashioned but the atmosphere was good. He got lost metaphorically, started drinking beers followed by bourbon chasers, after three combinations he was drunk and he was lucky because Stevie looked after him. He woke in Stevie’s bed, in his shirt, socks and boxers, wrapped around Stevie who was gently snoring. His head was hurting, he felt some after effects, realised he was still technically drunk, found a glass on the bedside table which he did not remember using but obviously had, and had a couple more glasses from the tap in the bathroom. He’d have to spend some time in Vegas sobering up. He shook Stevie awake who grumbled, turned over and went back to sleep, left him and got dressed properly, checked his card, and the little cash, all was intact his phone was under his folded jeans. Checked to see if he spent any ridiculous amounts of money on his banking app, he hadn’t. He left Stevie fifty dollars, and called an uber back to the hotel.

A text came in. ‘No need to leave money. I’ll give it back to you, you staying?’

Yes he was staying but only until lunchtime. He had to be out of the hotel by twelve, had considered taking another night but it wasn’t worth it and he had somewhere to go.

He didn’t waste time after Las Vegas and kept straight, driving for five or so hours each day, getting into his next stop around four, a nap, and out to dinner, then back to look at his script, aiming to be in bed by ten. Seven nights later he was in New York, he had travelled through ten states and six interstate highways, not really seeing the landscape, keen only to drive onwards avoiding town centres so eventually roads merged into one, only his destination sharply in mind, forced to notice the change in weather and layering up as he reached New York. His script was more or less learnt, he’d not drunk after Vegas, that whole encounter was foolish, he’d put himself in danger and had been lucky that he had come across Stevie. They had texted through his journey and he was grateful for his online company, he was going to keep him as a friend, they may not on the face of it have much in common and he lived a long way away, but a good friend is always welcome.


	18. Eighteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armie's POV

A candy-colored clown they call the sandman

Tiptoes to my room every night

Just to sprinkle stardust and to whisper

"Go to sleep. Everything is all right."

\- In Dreams, Roy Orbison

Armie didn’t know where to start, he started pulling things out of cupboards, personal possessions now sat on the floor beside their various cupboards and shelves, clothes piled up on the bed, shoes were scattered over the floor, the draw containing underwear was slid out. He sat on his bed, his head in his hands, he couldn’t dwell, he got up, looked around the now dissembled room, it matched his mood. He lay on the bed and went to sleep.

‘Armie…Armie…’

There was a hand shaking his shoulder.

‘Get up Armie, you can’t sleep here. Wake up…’

A soft voice trying to rouse him, he wasn’t sure who it was. Father Desmond stood still while Armie came to.

‘This room is a mess, come sleep in one of the spare rooms, we can tidy up tomorrow morning, you don’t have to go until Monday.

‘I want to go tonight.’

‘If you mean that I will help you.’

Armie swung his legs down.

‘I don’t have to take it all at once…’

‘The new man will need the room Armie…unless you want to stay?’

‘No, no. I am going. I have to move my things and then I go on the long retreat. Best I go soon.’

Armie was going to take the 30 day silent retreat. It would prepare him for the next part of his journey, finalising his Regency. He only had two more years left, he would be ordained and then one more year to complete his training.

He had made up his mind. He would leave church work and involvement with church communities and go full-time into teaching. No more piecemeal work. He had met the requirements in terms of time spent in church, now it was time for him to fully engage in his training. The Regency required him to work in a Jesuit institution or its organisation. There were several places under consideration, he didn’t need to earn a lot of money, the Jesuits would house him and he would be given sufficient to live on, anything extra belonged to the church. His thesis was next, that had been dragging along whilst he was involved with Timothy, it had to be finished. His attention turned back to the room, Father Desmond was in the doorway.

‘The bed is made, you have a choice.’

He turned and went out of the room.

Armie started putting everything in piles. He finished at two, the room was tidy, his possessions ready to go into suitcases and boxes. He went to the bathroom and prepared for bed with a minimal routine and was asleep by three. The next morning he was awake by seven-thirty, and got his suitcases from the garage come outhouse, needed some cardboard boxes, and decided to go and buy some. Of course the shops he needed to buy the boxes from were not yet open, he went and had breakfast instead. After coffee and some waffles he bought more boxes than he needed, he had to think ahead. His new accommodation was not so spacious, the charity shop pile should probably be bigger, he’d sort that out when he was actually packing, he had already put the clothes that Timothy had bought him in that pile. No-one to impress and it was safer, no more concern about whether the colours matched or not looking too smart. He’d be able to just go to the closet door and pull anything out. It was one less chore. Except he could not get rid of the black cashmere sweater that Timmy had bought him for Christmas, it somehow had his imprint on it, there was an imperfection in the sleeve, handmade, it looked like a fingerprint, like someone had squeezed the pattern onto the inner arm, he used to tease Timothy that he had done it on purpose, they used to laugh about it whenever he wore it. He sat on the floor and that was where Father Desmond found him, crying softly, the sweater in his hands pressed close to his body.

He slept one more night at the Priory, said his goodbyes and moved into a house in Santa Clara, where there were three other Jesuit priests who were more or less at the same stage as him in their training. He was right, his room was smaller, he had to share the bathroom and toilet, and he had to take his share in cooking and cleaning. His life became small, rotating between work, his study, the house and his colleagues, they were friendly and he could share some of the issues he faced in his vocation, but they were not his friends. After he had completed training he would be moving on, onto another job. He had taken a fixed term contract for two years, working on a project within the the University which concentrate on researching Ethics, his previous experience proving very helpful. He wasn’t teaching he was running the project alongside the senior academic whose name was attached to the project. Armie was his assistant, and ran all the administrative tasks and processes, a steep learning curve. His attention was fully occupied, once he stepped into the centre, he did not have time to dwell on his problems. It was a godsend, good fortune that Father Desmond sat on one of the committees in the College of Theology and passed on details of the post which initially advertised internally, there were only three applicants. He had a wider experience and he was very clear about why he needed the job, stressing it was part of his Regency and that he would gain more than the money associated with the role, he would have to do some in-depth theological study, this post was perfect, the other candidates were experienced administrators but they did not have his background or motivation.

He applied himself. His life became boring. He only saw Vic and Jon, his longtime friend, outside of his colleagues. One of the men in the house liked cinema, he would occasionally go to see a movie with him. He wasn’t barred from socialising but felt it best to put all of that to one side, he attended church twice a week, a weekday evening short service at college and the longer mid-morning service on Sunday. He now regularly reconciled, after his retreat he had nothing left to confess. Now it was menial stuff, a political lie, missing a service, impure thoughts, the odd time when his desire got beyond him and he used his hand, nothing troublesome. Boring. The retreat had been hard and easy. Absolute silence, standalone accommodation, food was brought to him and left with a knock on his door, he was responsible for tending to his room and returning the empty bowls and cutlery. Food was simple, hardly any meat, fish one day a week as normal on Friday, the rest of week vegetarian, the food was wholesome and only fuel for the body. He had to prostrate himself for an hour each day in prayer, take an hour’s walk, then a prayer on the hour, heralded by a bell sounding, prayer offered, a period of reflection followed. The rest of the time was spent studying the bible and church doctrine to a strict schedule of readings, taking him deeper into understanding the role of Christ, then an hour each day with a personal guide reviewing the day. He never had more than thirty minutes free at any time, by the time he had prayed to the bell, read a text, reflected, prostrated himself and done his hour of prayer to start the day and then again to end the day, the only spare time was for actual sleep, never more than six hours, mostly five. The first five days were terrible, no sooner had he got himself settled it was time for another activity. It was only in the third week that he fell into the routine and began to find himself centered, his end point clearly in view and for the first time in several years at peace.

His love for Timothy was never in doubt. The feelings and dependency had caused him pain, he had to admit it, those years were times of great joy and also great turbulence in his life. Everything that had happened to him had left some kind of mark, he would not be human if it had not. He assessed whether it was worth it. And came out thinking that it had been, and that it was not yet time to make any decisions, he was clear when he when into the retreat that Timothy was a fixture in his life, that he had no choice and that he only had to get through the next few years and everything would come right. Now, he saw he choices, he had had the space to think and reflect on his vocation, he had to put Timothy out of his mind. It could not work. The love was not diminished, it grew but it would not share fairly with his vocation, so for now it had to find a place in his heart and not occupy his mind or his focus. He had choices. He made a hard one.

Vic and he resumed their love and friendship, Vic had been silent on Timothy, he knew when Armie stopped talking about Timothy that that was when the love affair was at its height. Like a good friend he waited for Armie to come back to him. And he welcomed him back with open arms and drew him back into his family. Now Armie spent at least one evening or Sunday afternoon seeing at least one member of his family. When he had been in Santa Barbara he hardly saw them, his spare time spent in thought about Timothy or actually with Timothy. When he and Vic now spoke, they did not speak of Timothy or what he had meant or how he featured in Armie’s life. And Armie felt the disappointment recede and he was grateful.

And still he wanted him.

Like water running its course.

Like the sun rising in the sky.

Like a joy which burst unbidden from his heart.

A breath caught.

Realisation.

He wanted him.

The call of Timothy’s body never left him.

The desire was strong.

Sometimes his blood ran fire for him.

He could still smell him.

The memory of his body would sometimes just come upon him, skin brushing skin, the hairs felt his heat.

The way his cock yearned for his body.

Something deep inside him wanted Timothy, and it would never leave, nor let him be.

Misery always laid in wait for him.

…In dreams I walk with you, in dreams I talk to you

In dreams you're mine, all of the time

We're together in dreams, in dreams…


	19. Nineteen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy settles into a new life and resumes an old one. Armie is out of his life and choices were made, he has to live with it as best he can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have lied, there are going to be more than twenty chapters. I have the story laid out and there are twenty-two chapters.

In fact Timothy did not speak of Armie. When he arrived in New York, he very carefully maintained a silence around that part of his life. His mother broached the subject in the second week of his return home. He did not acknowledge her comment.

‘So was there anyone that you will miss Timothy?’

She tried to phrase it so that it could include a friend or a lover.

‘Of course. I was there a while.’

‘Yes, and we missed you.’

‘I know sorry…If there is one thing I regret I didn’t get to spend much time with you and Pops.’

Nicole looked at her son. He had changed, not just in the harder planes of his face, there was an underlying shadow in him, something he was carrying that he did not wish to share. She tried again.

‘Did you see much of Armie, you were near where he was staying? You mentioned he was working with that group of prisoners…I remember him, he was very striking, not just physically he had a presence…didn’t he?’

‘Yes.’

Timothy turned away from her. She left it, she saw how it was, he would not speak, he wasn’t ready.

‘I am going to take the other room Mom, my old room is too small now. I felt like the walls were coming in on me last night…I won’t stay long…this is temporary right?’

‘You can stay as long as you like, it’s only me and you. Our home.’

Timothy choked up. His mother rose and hugged him.

‘It’s alright baby.’

A final rehearsal schedule, dates for fittings, classes and exercises had turned up on his email. A whatsapp group had already been set up. He joined it and with that joined the life of actor in rehearsal, a rotation of things to do and learn. He turned off the Armie beacon in his head and as his erstwhile lover had done, found a place for him in his heart so as to release space for his work. His desire lay quiet, a gently hum that he felt no need to resolve. There would come a time for that. He resumed old friendships, meeting friends for drinks, taking in the city, weekend afternoons in Central Park. Will sat a whole evening with him the week he returned, in silence, soft music, some weed, pure feeling. He understood. He knew. And they went to bed and he held Timothy who slept soundly for the first time in weeks.

‘Will you stay with me?’

‘Sure, but just for the rest of this week, have to be back for the weekend, the girlfriend will get jealous.’

And the weeks rolled by, he engaged with the rehearsal process and show night came and Timothy felt ready. He was nervous, and that was good, without nerves something was wrong. Meanwhile, he kept looking out for Armie; there was the odd man in the street with his colour hair, someone of his height or someone moving like him in the periphery of his vision. But none of them were Armie.

And he began to lead a life. After the show, he took a short break and then into a film. The show had been good for him professionally, he was being noted. He played a key role but was not the main draw, that was Margo, his old friend. Her role was smaller but audiences came for her primarily and secondly to see the rising young star. After the first night reviews, ticket sales picked up and they were 85% overall sold. He had acquitted himself. Proven. Work began to quietly roll in. He had this film to shoot, which would take him into the Autumn, and another role was offered no audition, a good role with an esteemed director, they had met at a dinner during the run of the play and got on, and the role was his without his realising what was really going on.

Then he was working steadily, two films a year, and promo but he began to hang back. It wasn’t clear to him why he felt he had to be cautious about seeking fame, there was a little voice in the back of his head which began to say no. He was offered a role in a blockbuster franchise, he didn’t take it and his agent asked why, because he had attended three auditions to get it. The agent was concerned this was something that they had both actively been pursuing, he had other clients who were longing for the chance, and who would have taken it without a second thought.

‘You have wasted a lot of people’s time, I went out of on a limb and hooked you up for the audition. The producers were keen, they saw you four times, flew you to LA, and offered you the role. You were interested, wanted this. What’s up?’

Brian was frustrated but also knew that Timothy had something he had not been forthcoming about, and he needed to know what it was in case it became a problem.

‘I changed my mind. I don’t need the stress that a franchise brings. People will talk. I can get around, nobody asks me about my personal life. If I go down that road, I have to start playing a game that I don’t like.’

‘Not necessarily, there are other actors in franchises who say nothing, and they are left alone. They are polite, kind and spend time doing things that are interesting and which does not draw attention to their personal life. It is possible. Is there someone that you want to keep out of all this? If there is you need to tell me Timothy. These things have a way of coming out anyway. I can get you some PR if there is. Or is it a thing, not a person?’

‘There isn’t anyone, at least not now…’

‘Who is he?’

‘It doesn’t matter, we aren’t together anymore, and I doubt that we will be. It’s just not going to work for us.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes.’

And he was lying, because he wasn’t sure they were finished.

So his agent talked to him about changing direction, perhaps taking some time out, talking to some independent producers, working on smaller films, more stage work, being more directive about what he would or would not do; and another year rolled around and he still lived at home with his Mom, and he spent time with Will and his other friends. And soon the acting was not enough, he felt like that experience he’d had working with different and difficult people was being put to waste. He was privileged and he was not paying back. He had so much to be grateful for, he had felt sorry for himself and now he realised that he needed to move the focus away from himself. There were other things out there in life, and they were drifting past him, he could pay back, and grab onto something worthwhile. His mother constantly told him he was lucky, and that he did not face the day to day problems that others had to face. So, he became a patron of a charity which worked with prisoners recently out of jail and he joined a group which specialised in putting on performances with talented non-professionals from disadvantaged backgrounds and ran some workshops and even took some time working as an assistant director with the group, and his life became interesting and he began to get engrossed in the things he had going on around him. And instead of a rod, Armie became a thread in his line, something that could be moved out his way so he could get on with his life. Then he ran into Paul.

‘How are things?

A party, mutual friends, Timothy wondered if he might be there. He’d heard that Paul was single again, that he had finished with his last boyfriend in the last six months or so. Timothy had not taken the plunge into any kind of new relationship sexual or otherwise. On seeing Paul, he smiled, he had good memories, he remembered him fondly, he remembered he had not treated him fairly, but he had not cheated on him, that would have come, but it had not. Paul had chosen to go. He was absolved of blame. He had come to the party on a self-promise, he knew he would seek a second chance with Paul, so he went anticipating that he could persuade Paul to come back to him.

‘Good, Paul. I see you are well. Very well, you look good.’

Paul glowed, he was not immune. It had been several years since he had seen Timothy. Paul saw that he had filled out a little, looked older, more experienced, there were worn edges on him now. Above all he was still attractive, and what showed in his face was appealing, the old Timothy was still in there, albeit there was something laying under the surface of his smile.

‘Thanks, what are you doing with yourself now?’

‘Working, working, working…Otherwise not much, except I do a few things with some charities now, I’m busy, staying out of trouble…’

Paul looked into his face, he knew him, he was gauging if it was a joke or the truth.

‘That’s the truth, isn’t it? What happened?’

‘I can’t begin to tell you. Let’s not go there. What have you been up to?’

They caught up and arranged to meet for a drink and something to eat. And Timothy held something back and Paul didn’t ask what it was. They began to meet regularly, Paul was easy with him and did not push, they resumed. A tacit agreement that this would do for now, neither wanting anything permanent. Paul knew instinctively that Timothy was waiting for some person, possibly the same person, he had to protect himself, he was offered companionship and some good sex, that was good enough for now. Timothy had somebody who he knew liked him and from whom he could safely hide. Known and not known, best for him now, uncertainty still a chink in the armour of his character, the kind of uncertainty affecting decision making, he still believed anything could happen. And if anything could happen, so could his love for Armie be revived. He could bide his time. Paul ultimately would take what he could, as he was with Armie, Paul was with him.

He would not have to say why he could not commit, Paul would not challenge him, and he would let him be…whilst he decided. And his mother would stop asking him when he was going to get a boyfriend. He moved out, he couldn’t bring his sex life into their apartment and anyway he could afford it. He rented a small one bedroom apartment on the borders of Washington Heights, it was out of the way but still only 30 minutes from central Manhattan, no paps and no one knew who he was, or where he was, he got around town virtually unnoticed. Paul didn’t live in Manhattan, he couldn’t afford it, he had an apartment of decent size in New Jersey, it was clean and well maintained…and not to Timothy’s liking. Travelling between the apartments was a drag. They settled on a routine where Paul stayed with him Friday evening and Saturday, and departed Sunday lunchtime, there were some weekends it was not convenient, and on those weeks they did not see each other, it gave them sufficient time together and sufficient time apart, if they needed or felt like communicating otherwise, they had social media. Timothy revived the IG account he had previously set up for them, they had whatsapp, all in all it suited them both. No questions were asked.

Another year passed and neither Timothy nor Armie heard from the other. And then out of the blue.

>I am having my final ordination. Can you come?

Armie was ready.


	20. Twenty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy makes a decision.

**“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”**

**\- Emma Lazarus**

Of course he went. He told no-one, this was for himself only. He would never refuse Armie. And everyone that was close to him knew he had something on his mind.

‘What are you up to? Will.

‘You’ve been on edge, what’s wrong?’ Paul.

‘He’s back isn’t he?’ His mother was always direct and not easily fooled.

‘You seem rather chipper.’ An acting colleague.

He denied anything unusual was happening.

And everyone waited to see what would happen.

The ordination was several weeks off, Timothy booked the time off. He wasn’t filming or rehearsing but he had other commitments. His agent looked at him, marked it in his schedule as holiday, and did not ask for an explanation, but did place a PR team on hold. He told Paul he had to go to LA, and booked his flight to Santa Clara. And turned off the location service on his phone.

He arrived the day before and told Armie where he was. He did not have to wait long.

He’d booked a hotel on the outskirts of town, somewhere and nowhere, nobody looked at him. He booked a room with a king-sized bed. He didn’t know what to expect, he might have a chance mightn’t he? No, that was ridiculous. Armie wasn’t going to be free to see him. There would be expectations, preparations, he would need to be in meditative mood, no there was no chance. Armie came to him in the afternoon, the only words out of his mouth were:

‘Hello Timothy.’

Timothy was shaking, here was his Armie, little changed. Strangely, not actually his Armie. Something was off. He held back. Now he was frightened he had misinterpreted what was happening.

‘We need to talk.’

‘Yes. We can stay here. I’ve a club room, I have furniture other than the bed. Do you mind? I can get some room service. It will be more private, I’ve no expectations, we will just talk Armie, it’s been a long time.’

‘I am not worried Timothy, your room will be OK.’

Timothy held out a little hope. They were in the reception area. Armie was dressed in his cassock, that didn’t mean anything, did it? But of course it did, if Armie really mean it was OK, then he would be dressed in slacks and shirt. Everyone had seen them, the priest and the actor.

They rode the lift in silence, silence reigned even as Timothy walked up the corridor to his room, he kept glancing at Armie, he got nothing back, this hurt, why had he come? He should have said he wasn’t coming and then sat in a back row, that would have been sufficient. Now he had the ignominy of being treated like a guest. No, he had to put all that to one side, at least he had Armie if only for a short while. He used some techniques that he used for nerves, settled himself, breathed properly, released the tension from his body, set his whole foot on the ground as he walked, felt the whole floor as he paced, and then when he got to the door, everything failed including his body and the card key would not swipe. He started to fall apart. Armie took the card from him, swiped cleanly, stood back and let him into the room. He placed a hand on Timothy’s elbow and guided him to the large sofa in the room, Armie sat in the only armchair.

‘What have you ordered Timothy?’

‘Green Tea and Coffee, I remembered that you liked green tea, a couple of savoury pastries. I know you don’t like sweet, do you want something else?’ He half rose.

‘No, that is fine.’ A long pause, a careful look. ‘How are you?’

‘Right now? Or generally?’

‘How are you Timothy?’

‘OK. I got back with Paul.’ 

He had to get that out there straight away, there would be no lying or half truths with Armie.

Armie thought to himself. It was written in his face, quizzical and some degree of hurt, without words he said I don’t know what to do with that.

‘I started seeing him again around a year ago, a bit longer than that actually. I ran into him at a party. I don’t live with him. We have something it works…I miss you Armie.’

Again something ran down Armie’s face. Whatever it was, Armie was not going to say.

‘I made a decision Timothy, and before I make this final commitment, I wanted to talk with you.’

‘Will you hold me just this last time, I want to feel close to you. I don’t know what to do…I am scared…’

‘No. We need to talk, not get wrapped up in something else…distracting.’

The room was very quiet.

‘You know…I have had a lot of time to think about this. Let me talk. I might ramble. I need to be out of here by half-four, I’ve an appointment at five, final arrangements then back home.’ The choice of word was deliberate. Timothy was going to get barely an hour and a half with him.

‘You’ve got everything for tomorrow haven’t you? Invite and instructions? You’ll stay for a cup of tea or something…please…’

Timothy nodded but he was not agreeing. He wouldn’t stay. And Armie knew he would not stay.

‘How would you introduce me? Your former lover? A friend? Colleague from your voluntary work days? Former student? We have had many lives, haven’t we Armie?’

There was a gentle knock on the door, room service, once placed the items were ignored. Another pause, the room stilled and Armie spoke again. The moment held.

‘After you left I went on long retreat. But it was not the long retreat that convinced me what was right…what was right for me Timothy. Giselle was a turning point. She didn’t stop us but I thought about all the people that acted on our behalf, and I began to see the deceit, and it put a full stop in our sentence, Timothy. Not an end to us but it gave me space to think. I began to ask myself what I was doing, I had my career, I had my belief and I had you. That was all I ever needed, those three things but in order to have you I had to lie, and this began to sit right in front of me.

I love you Timothy, I loved you then and I will never stop loving you. That is fixed. It is not a query. I might seem calm but my body is like a vessel with churning water. I have you close to me, I follow your career, I see you are doing well. We are a pair. You have your career, you believe in your vocation and you love me. You still love me don’t you? I don’t even need to ask. It’s written all over you. You couldn’t even open the fucking door to your room…

I don’t want answers…just listen to me. I dreamt about this for the longest time. Wanted to be in your presence for a long time. I physically miss you. You have no idea.

Do you still miss the sex, I miss it…I loved the feel of your body…how you made me feel after you had taken me into your body…that skin…the inside of you…the outside of you…I can feel it now…I still get aroused…no amount of praying will ever get rid of that…once I had sex with you I knew that I would never forget or regret it…I have to manage now…sometimes I take a hand to myself…I can still see your hard cock…it makes me hard too…I have to manage…

I go running now, at least 30 minutes every day, if I can an hour. I am not competitive, I only run to free my mind…of you…it’s a time when I can let my mind run on anything it wants. The first time I ran, I ran with an erection the whole way…ha ha ha…it was fucking painful, then over time, you became a thought that ran for minutes and eventually you became an intuition something on which I could rest and then go on mind clear.

I’ve moved into a house with other Jesuit priests, I have a new job, I’m an administrator, senior, I run a department now, it’s enjoyable, I am back in touch with students – research students, Ethics project, am still studying, I finished my PhD, now I study theology. It’s expected. Part of my training. I’ve finished the Regency, this is the end of Tertianship, I’ll be a full Jesuit after this. Do you know I was investigated? The Society wanted to know if I am committed, if there is anything still going on that would make me unsuitable, it’s like seeking references. I’ve been good Timothy, these last few years have been very hard but here I am ready…I am fulfilling my ambition…I always made it very clear didn’t I? My vocation is important to me. I had to complete it. You had to go. Do you understand?’

He looked fully in to Timothy’s face and he saw he was right. Timothy was chewing his bottom lip it looked red, almost raw. He had been subconsciously chewing for the most of the Armie’s deliberations. He wanted to talk, he waited to see if he was allowed. Armie nodded.

‘Boy, I don’t even know what to say.’

He felt like he did when he first knew that Armie was his person, a boy amongst men.

‘Armie, look I am going to be honest. I don’t even know why I am here. I only knew I had to come when you asked. I will always come to you if you want me.’ He stopped then rushed on.

‘Paul is someone who cares very much for me. I love him. Not like I love you but I love him, he takes care of me, he loves me he knows about you, not you specifically but he knows that I have someone in my life who is not negotiable. He left me the first time because he knew there was someone else, this time round he knows exactly what to expect. We are both holding off, we both know that if I commit to him we are in it for life. I haven’t committed to do that, that would be to lie. I don’t know where I am with you and I won’t commit if there is any chance with you Armie. You know that don’t you? I am taking the risk of telling you this.

I have reached a stage in my life where I know that I can manage…I mean not manage without you. Just manage to carry on. It took me nearly two years to even contemplate sleeping with another man. I couldn’t do it. Like you I carry your taste with me, I am sitting here and I want to get into you, I want to feel your flesh. I want you Armie. That is why I came, it isn’t even satisfying a physical sexual need, I just want to be with you. I can’t even describe it, it’s like an ache, a force we share.

I concentrate on my work better when I am not with you…’

‘You turned down Marvel.’

Timothy was silent.

‘That was for you. You hadn’t come back to me. I didn’t…if I had taken that role there would be no chance of getting back with you. I could have no secrets in my life…the priest and the actor…can’t work…I had…have to leave a space for us…you know what that space is…a space…distance between us…where no-one can connect the dots. It’s not lying Armie…it isn’t deceit…it’s just not being open…not sharing. And if I had taken on that role, I’d have to replace my Armie sized hole with something or leave a vacuum. Some people manage very well, but I can’t. You light me up, remember you said you were a better person with me? You are my light Armie. You burn something in me, it is not put out by distance and it burns stills. I want you in all ways, and I want you back in my life.’

‘The priest and the actor…you are right…it cannot work.’

The room was now cold and both of them felt it.

‘Don’t say it...’

‘I am thinking about my future Timmy. A realistic future. I still have goals. I haven’t worked with the people that I was first motivated by, those who have no chance of fighting the system fairly, that is what America is all about. My first mass will be at the Loyola University, here in Santa Clara, then I am going to spend a year in Peru working as a teacher in a rural school, depending on how that goes, I will do another year, then come back here and try to get another job in a school but as a headteacher, preferably in an area that has a high percentage of Latin Americans. If that doesn’t work out, I will go back to teaching in an area where I can get the experience which will get me senior teacher experience.

I will probably work as a priest until I am seventy…I won’t need to…my parents are comfortable, I will have money at some point I will retire…but I will always be a priest. I have converted my trust fund into a house which is rented, and the money paid back into the trust. I won’t need to take a pension from the diocese. My parents will leave me sufficient money to invest. My life is very simple now. I spend hardly any money, I live in my cassock, clothes are not important. I live, and eat in. Everything I need is provided, and I save my salary. I won’t want for anything.

Do you understand?’

Armie got up and kneeled in front of Timothy, he took his hands in his. Blue melted into gold. What looked blonde were many grey hairs mixed in with darkened hair. The face was oddly uncreased, smooth, it was peaceful and held an inner calm, Armie was no longer looking for a solution. A decision had been made.

‘This is best for both of us. I cannot give you hope where there is no longer any…’

‘I can’t come tomorrow...’

‘I want you there, please come. I am giving up a lot. I need to see you there.’

Tears were rolling down Timothy’s cheeks. He removed his hands.

‘You better go, it’s quarter-past.’

Of course he went and Armie discreetly held his eye when he could. When the service was over, he pulled his overnight bag from under the pew, got in his hired car and drove to the airport, back to New York and back to Paul. This part of his life was over. It had been worth it, he did not regret a second and now there was nothing to hold him back. He could go forward, couldn’t he?


	21. Twenty-One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Timothy deals with things the best way he can, life has to settle into some kind of routine, doesn't it?

“There hath no temptation taken you but such as is common to man: but God is faithful, who will not suffer you to be tempted above that ye are able; but will with the temptation also make a way to escape, that ye may be able to bear it.”

\- 1 Cor. 10:13

Marvel came back for him. This time he did not refuse and he became a celebrity, no longer a rising star, established, not yet rich beyond caring but sufficient that if he was careful, he could live quite comfortably for the rest of his life.

Paul became his flatmate, they moved to a larger apartment nearer to the centre of Manhattan actually in Harlem, and they shared the costs and Timothy got him work in the films that he worked in, and everyone knew that he was with Paul and he became ‘friends’ with an actress who he had known for sometime and who had already been seen with him and who walked with him when he needed but he did not lie. He called her a good friend and the media knew the truth but reported that they were ‘good friends’ and depending on circumstance the right thing was seen and believed, so now he had a real lover and a public lover and that worked for everyone.

And still he wanted Armie. For him Armie was still an unresolved issue.

His mother and father decided to move back in together, his father retired and his mother no longer felt the need to be independent, her husband needed and wanted her. The apartment was empty, rent controlled, she could pass it on to her children so long as they were in creative industries. Timothy and Paul moved in, no one batted an eyelid. They were known. And their lives went on.

‘Shall we get married?’

They were sitting in the living room, the whole apartment had been re-decorated when they moved in, modern new furniture, the paint reflected light, every room was light and airy; the TV was on, they were bingeing a Netflix series, it was Sunday afternoon, neither was working, they intended to stay up half the night.

Timothy fell very silent. He didn’t want to answer.

‘I knew it.’

‘Knew what?’

‘The answer is yes, or no, or it’s not the right time.’

‘I am thinking about it. You know I love you right.’

‘This is the same as last time.’

‘Why did you ask then.’

Paul got up and left the room.

Timothy remained on the sofa, his eyes fixed to the screen. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to and wasn’t going to answer the proposal.

He thought about Armie, he’d be forty-two or forty-three, he wondered what he was doing, five years had passed since he last saw him. He thought about him every day, and every day he looked at their last picture together or read a page of the illustrated Catholic bible, he had no intention of forgetting him. He’d lied that once to him, he never intended to make a commitment to Paul, he only said it to wake Armie up, it hadn’t worked. He got up and went into their bedroom. Paul was sitting on the bed, silent and morose.

‘I don’t know why you stay with me. You will never give him up, will you?’

‘That isn’t the right question. He has given me up twice, but no, I can’t give him up. I don’t have a choice.’

‘Timmy, that is hopeless. I love you, I don’t care about him. Anytime you want we can get married or make a proper commitment.’

‘What is a proper commitment? I live with you, I don’t want anyone else. I am committed to you. I don’t want to sleep with anyone else. We are very companionable, you understand me. You know how to manage me. I…’

‘Can’t think of the right words to frame your love for me, can you?

You love me like a favourite dog. Someone who will love you regardless, doesn’t give you trouble, malleable, compliant, waiting for you. The sex is OK, but it’s just OK isn’t it? Since you were with him, no-one else can compare, can they? You’re still in love with him, aren’t you? It’s not just love is it? And, you are not in love with me. That is the hair on your tongue which you won’t pull out.

Leave me for the moment. I have some thinking to do because I don’t want to do this thing again. I love you but I am not going to wait forever. We’re both well over thirty, I can’t keep doing this. At some point he is going to call you again and you will go running to him, and you won’t lie but you will not tell me the truth. Just like you have done the last two times.’

‘I went to him once, and I came straight back. You left me the first time remember.’

An admission. Paul gazed up at him.

‘I’ll sleep in the spare room.’

Things were testy for the next month. Paul moved out again. Timothy got rid of the mattress and re-arranged furniture. He was starting again, this time he was prepared, and got stuck into his charities and his acting work. Time would bring the right kind of change.

Timothy had tracked what Armie was doing, and watched his rise through school administration and through the teaching ranks in Santa Clara County, his switch to Long Beach and the taking on of an executive head teacher role over several schools in deprived areas. He never went to abroad, and Timothy didn’t care why. Once he had moved those schools off the bottom of the California’s school rankings he took a break, and wrote a book on his life experience and the experiences of people he had come into contact with, and in writing found something that he loved and found satisfaction in. He took on freelance work, teaching or supporting schools for three days so he could write for two.

He started to write opinion pieces for local papers on the modern catholic church and it’s role in society. He discovered the internet and created a personal blog based on the personal and political burdens on priests; he stood off making criticism of the church he loved and which had provided him with comfort in times when he could not bear to face the reality of his own life. He tried to be truthful and faithful to his own experience, but increasingly found himself at odds with the bible, doctrine and papal opinion. He was unsettled, he sought advice and went saw the Provincial. The same one was in post, conservative and traditional, this man had taught him that in order to reach his full potential he had to adhere to the true principles of Ignatius Loyola, and go back to the church fathers and their writing. The same readings that had enabled him to get through the long nights that he missed Timothy. He discussed with him problems of the church: Falling interest in the priesthood as a career, and decline in the numbers and the accompanying rise in the age of priests. He pointed out he was one of the youngest priests in the region. Told him one of the local priests had been using money from church tithes to fund a family he’d had with one of the parishioners, and that on quietly notifying the Bishop, later found the man was not removed from his post but given counselling and actually paid more. The parishioners were well aware of the family and put up with him for fear of losing their own personal priest. Finally, he asked him about a sixty-five year old priest who was unwell, so unwell as really not being capable of carrying out his duties. This man was also without money of his own so that he could not retire, and the Bishop refused him a pension, explaining that he could retire when he reached seventy, the right and proper age for retirement there was no contingency for illness. The Provincial was non-committal and said that these were issues for the Bishop and not for Jesuits and Armie faced him up and begged him for guidance on these issues, issues that were raised by practising catholics and his readers. He explained that he felt these were issues for the whole church, clergy and lay people alike.

The Provincial did not elaborate, re-iterating that these were matters for Bishops, Archbishops and the Vatican, that there were mechanisms and processes in place to deal with these issues. Armie saw there was no point in continuing the debate and the conversation closed uneasily.

Things of which Armie had superficial knowledge became things of which he had expert knowledge and he did not like what he had learnt. And he wrote about it, in simple terms explaining the difficulties the church was facing but ultimately indicating that the Church was a failing organisation. He was called into a meeting by the Bishop and for the second time in his life questioned about his commitment to the church and to the Jesuit Society.

‘You cannot call me out. I have given up the love of my life to remain in this church, it’s only fair that you give me good reason why the church has failed to deal with these issues, there are other financial scandals and continued cases of child abuse. You have no answers for me. How am I supposed to deal with this?’

‘You don’t have to deal with this Armie, you aren’t a local priest. You choose to bring these matters before your view. You only have to stop writing about them or thinking about them, and the difficulties will disappear for you.’

Armie looked at him, incredulous at the words he had heard, in effect he was being asked to look the other way and ignore what was in front of him.

‘They won’t, I get asked about them constantly, that is why I need to write about them. My faith in Jesus or God is not diminished, my faith in the men and power of the church is rock bottom and you are doing nothing to change that. Why did I give up my lover when other men continue to damage the church and hurt people with no punishment. I have suffered plenty, they suffer not at all.’

‘Armie, you had a choice and you made the right one for you. It so happens it was the right decision for the church. The men you talk about have not had your complete trust or confidence in themselves, their vocation or in God. They are still on a journey, you are on the right path. I praise you for your decision but I see you are in no mood to accept this.

I must say, I am intrigued as to why you now feel it necessary to raise these issues. They were not unknown to you. These issues have plagued the church for time immemorial.’

‘You are fucking right.’

Armie got up, and left the room. His anger outweighed his trust in the abilities of the man in the room to actually deal with the problems in his own patch. He could no longer stand by and watch. His choice was simple, work to root out the evil or leave. Then a thought, this wasn’t true, he had another option. He could go back to providing unselfish service to community through a full-time teaching job or parish priest post. He could even seek a post in South America and seek out a job helping the disadvantaged or teaching, that had been his first intention, and it still stood as a good intention. But he had to face the truth, he didn’t want to do any of it anymore. He was done with punishing himself, he saw that somewhere in the future he could retire early and Timothy could join him as his companion. There were risks, thoughts ran through his head: he would still have to ask permission to leave or retire, he might not be in good health or he might be refused; he could ask to be released from the priesthood through a formal process, by laicisation, and become a lay person have no responsibilities; he could just leave the church, leave everything…that wasn’t an option, he might be formally excommunicated. Another option, he could take the route of no return, tell the elders that he had had a lover and was going back to him and that he would never leave the church, so they would have no choice but to formally remove him from the priesthood and more than likely take away his right to even attend church.

He thought about requesting a dispensation from the vow of celibacy, then laughed to himself. He was wanting to fuck a man, not a woman. At every step he was stymied. He wasn’t aiming to get married. His life was fucked one way or another. He could no longer stand by and watch iniquities within the church, resistance was futile, he couldn’t fool himself, he might join the fight against dissolute priests but he would be fighting the church itself, and the wicked were easy to deal with. The church might take the view they were worth saving, or a formal route to get them out of the church. But what about people like himself whose lives were at the mercy of their Provincial or Bishop or local clergy? The options were to live a lie, to continue to preach or work on behalf the church in full knowledge that his belief had gone or was compromised, or, live a life of deception as he had previously, putting himself into the hands of those same people who would apply the same rules to him as the wicked and unreformed. His last option was to fight the good fight and try to get change from within.

He didn’t have the energy or the desire. At that point he made up his mind. He was leaving the church. He didn’t see any other option. He could not be fully be a catholic if he intended to have sex with a man either now or in the future. It was in effect sex or the church, and he had never lost his desire for Timothy. There was no other way out, if he was going to resurrect his relationship with Timothy, at whatever age, it had to involve a physical element, he would not deny himself nor did he expect Timothy to become celibate so he could remain a catholic. And so in making this decision a great weight lifted from his shoulders.

Timothy returned from seeing his agent, he’d decided to take a year out. He’d earnt more than several million in the last few years. His household account held sufficient money to cover the next five years providing he did not move, his tax was accounted for as were his management fees and he had around fourteen million left in savings and cash accounts. It was time to decide what he was going to do in the next period of his life. He contemplated moving, perhaps it was time to slow down, move somewhere upstate New York or go back to California, the only thing preventing him leaving was knowing his real home would always be the apartment where he lived now, he knew in his heart of hearts that he was a New Yorker, now he was never bothered when he walked around town.

The Marvel contract was done, he had done three films, the last one had been filmed last Summer. He’d asked his agent to find him a stage play for his return, he was going to do a play and if he could find a good series for either Netflix or HBO he’d do that, otherwise an independent film. It wasn’t that he wasn’t looking for work only not to work the coming year. He reached his building, and walked in, walking directly to the lift. The concierge beckoned him to the desk, he wasn’t expecting any parcels or bulky post. The concierge flicked his eyes to a person sitting in the seats beside the desk, the person had a suitcase alongside the seat which was anchored to the wall.

‘You have a guest, says his name is Armie Hammer.’

Timothy had to look twice. It wasn’t quite registering. He walked over.

‘I’ve left the church. Can I stay with you?’


	22. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So we have reached the a point in the story where it seems right to stop. They have both been through a lot to get where they are and like most things recounted in life, we stop at a point where there is a future.
> 
> \- Nobody knows what that future may hold.
> 
> Remember Timothy said: 'The journey isn’t over, for now we go into a night of unknown duration, but somewhere in our future, daylight is on the horizon.' 
> 
> \- Night is a time of rest and recuperation, as well as period of trial.

“Set me as a seal upon your heart, as a seal upon your arm, for love is strong as death, jealousy is fierce as the grave. Its flashes are flashes of fire, the very flame of the LORD. Many waters cannot quench love, neither can floods drown it. If a man offered for love all the wealth of his house, he would be utterly despised."

\- Song of Solomon 8:6-7

Joy comes to us from those whom we love even when they are absent …

when present, seeing them and associating intimately with them yields real pleasure…

\- Seneca

“Courage is knowing what not to fear.” – plato

“…be like the love that discovered the sin…’ - Hozier

Timothy silently took Armie’s arm as he stood, and walked him over to the lift. His heart was full, his brain was mush. He couldn’t speak. He wanted to kiss him, pull him close and make sure he wasn’t dreaming. They got into the lift and Armie put the case down, pressed him into the wall, kissed him briefly, and said.

‘Hello. We are old men now. Can’t be doing this stuff in lifts.’ A gentle smile, no need to say anything else.

Timothy was still overwhelmed.

‘Where’s your keys?’

Timothy took them out of his pocket, gave them to Armie. His eyes were like saucers, glazed over with happiness.

‘I remember you are hopeless with keys.’

They got to the apartment, Armie opened the door and put his case down near the doorway. He had never been to Timothy’s apartment and naturally wanted a quick look. He walked down the hall, poking his head into the kitchen and on into the living space which was an open space off the hall. It was a simple apartment, the smallest bedroom opposite the kitchen off the hall near the main door, a further larger bedroom down the hall and lastly the master and ensuite at the end a single door separating that area from the rest of the apartment, only the master was en-suite, the other bedrooms had to make use of the family bathroom and separate toilet. He turned back.

‘Nice.’

‘What the fuck is happening?’

Armie turned round.

‘I have left the church.’

‘I don’t believe you. How long are you here for?’

‘I have left the fucking church.’

‘Does that mean you can move in with me?’

‘Yes. I have no money, I am going to live off you until I get a job…ha ha ha…’

‘What about Paul?’

Now it was Armie’s turn to look distressed.

‘Well if he is still here, you have to tell him to go.’

Timothy laughed.

‘Have you really left the church?’

‘I have fucking told you three times, yes I have left the church.’

‘Who else have you told?’

‘No-one. I packed my things and came up. I am in hiding. Expect phone calls.’

‘Ha ha ha…I’ve changed my number, even you wouldn’t be able to contact me. How did you know how to find me?’

‘I took a chance, the worst that could happen is your Mom was still living here. I found a listing for her, there are articles which said you lived with her, you are a public figure.’

Timothy had forgotten that if you knew how to look, he could be tracked down. He had a moment of common sense.

‘We’ll need to move out.’

‘Why?’

‘Why? I am not going to wait until someone finds us…I can’t believe you are here…why are we arguing?’

‘Which bedroom?’

‘At the end of the hall.’

‘I’m just going to take my case into the room.’

‘Are you going to sleep in the same bed as me?’

‘Yes.’

Armie left him and went for his case. He was gone for a little while. Then Timothy heard the shower running. He went into the master and lay across the bed, waiting for Armie to come out of the ensuite. The case was open on the floor, he got off the bed and started rummaging..

‘What are you looking for?’

‘I don’t know. Clues.’

‘About what?’

‘Why you are here.’

Armie sat on the bed, he had the towel wrapped around his lower half. He opened it and finished off drying himself. He seemed quite relaxed.

Timothy’s attention was caught. He swallowed, saliva ran down the inside of his mouth. It had been a few months since he had slept with anyone. He wondered if he had any condoms.

‘Who have you slept with in the last six months?’

‘I’m safe, I’ve used condoms.’

‘That is not the question I asked.’

‘Two people.’

‘How long does it take to get results back from a test?’

’30 mins. But It’s expensive. Not sure if my insurance covers it.’

‘Are you saying you can’t afford it? We are going to have to change the bed, this one is too small.’

Armie put on some pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and laid himself on the bed, it was a queen, he just fit. He was tired, too much excitement. It wasn’t like when they first met, he was forty five, that meant that Timothy was around thirty-eight, neither had quite kept up with birthdays, the date was imprinted the actual number of years was not. He felt all of his years.

‘I’m going to make some tea, do you want some? I’ve got Jasmine, White, Green, Camomile, some fruit shit, Peppermint or Assam. Or do you want a coffee? Are you hungry? I can make some toast, I also have plain muffins, some cheese, slices of salt beef or salami, olives, chips…’

‘Timothy, go and get the test, if you are coming in this bed tonight, something might happen.’

‘Something…like sex?’

‘Yes.’

‘Won’t you be tired?’

‘I am going to nap now. Go on, I’m not going anywhere.’

Timothy went back out to the living room area and sat down. He was swamped with feeling. He got up and went back into the bedroom. Armie was already gently snoring. Timothy wasn’t sure if they could share a bed, his sleep patterns had also changed, he needed a quiet room. He might sleep in the middle bedroom; the small bedroom was was set up as an office, well computer room, with a two seater sofa, coffee table and large screen, so not suitable. What was he thinking? Christ. What was he thinking? He came back into the living space, got his phone and checked for details of the nearest medical centre which ran a quick test. Instead he called his doctor, explained why he needed the quick test, and that he didn’t want a pap picture of him exiting a clinic. The doctor’s office was discreet, even if he was papped they wouldn’t necessarily put him as being at his doctor’s. It was 30 minutes walk away, or fifteen in an Uber. He needed the walk, he could get an Uber back. It was a quick and relatively easy process. As he expected the quick test came out negative, he asked the practitioner to run the STI test as well, as a precaution. He wanted to re-assure Armie he was safe. He’d get those results back that evening. decided to walk back, in total he was gone three hours, he had to wait for the test results and he didn’t have an appointment.

His head was still buzzing when he walked into his building, again the Concierge called him to the desk.

‘Is your friend going to be staying a while?’’

‘Yes.’

‘Do you have a building key for him? He’ll need a swipe card too for out of hours, got one of those?’

‘Let me check, I think I have both somewhere in the apartment.’

‘Going out tonight?’

‘No Sammy, we’ll both be in tonight, not going anywhere. Might order take-out. Thanks. Oh by the way, his name is Armie. He’s moving in.’

‘I know Timothy…I saw how it was…’

‘Even the fucking concierge knows what’s going on.’

‘What?...What time is it?’

‘Past six. Are you getting up?’

‘Give me a moment…what do you mean about the concierge?’

‘Nothing.’

Armie swung his legs off the bed.

‘Don’t bother getting up.’ Timothy pulled off his sweater.

‘I need to go pee. And I want something to drink.’

Timothy took off his shoes and socks, he undid his belt. When did he start wearing a belt? That was a sign of old age, young men didn’t wear belts. He looked at his stomach, it wasn’t as flat as Armie might remember, his ass had stretch marks now. He put on the side table lights, switched off the overhead light, this was more flattering. The toilet flushed, the faucet in the ensuite sink ran, then Armie came out and went out of the room. He wanted to slap him on his ass, that round firm ass. He’d squeeze it when Armie came back. He went into the bathroom and brushed his teeth, decided that he probably should have a quick shower, he switched on the shower unit.

‘Don’t wash.’

He did wash, and prepare himself. Came out in a pair of soft pants and a clean t-shirt. Didn’t bother with underwear. Armie wasn’t wearing any either.

‘Should we talk first…’

‘What do you want to know?’

‘Really, why are you here?’

Armie went briefly into the reasons for leaving the church. In truth, he still wasn’t sure if he should reconcile, ask to leave, or just abandon the church and he told Timothy so. He just knew that for the time being he was done with the Catholic church, it didn’t have a place for someone like him and it wasn’t willing to fix the very obviously wrong things affecting the Catholic community. In his heart he knew he needed to attend some kind of church service, it was ingrained in him, he loved the ceremony and he still had belief. He would miss it if he had to do without. He spoke of an alternative in an outburst.

‘I could join an Anglican church, a high church, one which welcomes LGBQT members. I don’t think I can give up going to a service. I am not going to fuck with the Catholics anymore though, they are a bunch of fucking hypocritical bastards. I can’t fuck you and be a catholic, now or in the future and I can’t be truly Catholic knowing that I intend sleeping with you. I am not doing that deceitful shit anymore or the confession bullshit. Motherfuckers.’

Timothy held his counsel, he had Armie for now, things might change in some near future.

‘Swearing quotient has gone up dramatically…’

‘You can kiss me now.’

‘Oh…really…’

‘Come here Timmy. I missed you. Be gentle with me it’s been a while.’

They rolled towards each other, there were clothes and towels on the bed. Armie flung them onto one of the chairs. Timothy scooted over, Armie started to kiss him tentatively, Timothy got close and stroked his back, he wanted to test that ass, was it still firm? Armie rolled right onto Timothy, his leg pressed between Timothy’s. Their fronts pressed together, Timothy put his hand into Armie’s pants and slid his hand as far as possible down his ass. It felt like an old friend, he groaned.

‘What?’

‘Your ass…’

Timothy sat up.

‘Lie on your back. I am gonna take those off.’ Timothy removed Armie’s clothes.

‘Let me look at you.’

‘Bit flabby now…thank goodness you turned off the overhead light.’

Timothy got up, pulled off his clothes too, turned off the side lights, made sure the curtains were fully closed and switched on the overhead lights.

‘No more hiding. I need to see everything, and you need to see how I have changed too. My skin…body is not as firm either.’

Armie lay on the bed and put his arm over his eyes.

‘Let me just lie here, take a good look, then I will look at you.’

Timothy removed the arm.

‘Look properly, you need to see where my fat is now, my ass has fallen.’

‘You’re right and you never had much to start off with…’

‘Fucker…’

‘Where did you get that mark?’

‘It’s a bruise, or what remains of a bruise, I walked into a door handle.’

‘Lie down. Open your legs, I want to see if you have changed below too.’

Timothy obeyed.

‘OK, I am not a gymnast, that’s wide enough what are you looking for?’

‘To see how much you have been used. How many men have you slept with since me?’

‘Ask me no questions and I’ll tell you no lies…’

Armie grunted as a response, he had to be satisfied with that answer as he didn’t really want to know. He shifted down the bed, his ass was in the air, his legs were open, his balls were in a breeze, his hole was winking, he bent his head and sucked a ball into his mouth. He couldn’t lie, everything felt fucking marvellous.

‘OK…fuck…that’s nice…’

Armie took the other ball into his mouth and pressed a finger inside of Timothy, he raised his head.

‘I’m gonna kiss you...’

Armie kept the finger inside him and started to kiss him, his tongue was deep in Timothy’s mouth, their mouths perfectly sealed, sucking softly like old times, and then sucking upper to lower lip, he lifted his head and slid his tongue back into Timothy’s mouth. Timothy kept his legs open, the cock was beginning to get hard, the days were gone where things were immediate, he did not get as hard as he used to. He remembered when he first slept with Armie, his dick had been painfully gorgeously hard.

‘Where’s the lube?’

‘In the drawer, beside you.’

He applied a bit of lube then climbed onto Timothy and began to rub against his him. The two dicks simultaneously thickened and grew. Timothy lifted his legs and put them round Armie’s back, Armie continued rubbing.

‘Do you want to come this way?’

‘No. I want to fuck you. I haven’t come all these miles to lie on top of you and get a glorified hand job.’

‘You are very vulgar.’

‘Not vulgar, just telling you what I want. Roll on your side.’

He lifted Timothy’s leg, folded it and put it on his hip, and put the finger back, started to massage inside him, Timothy brought the leg up to intensify the feeling, Armie carried on for a while and Timothy began to writhe, his ass rocking back and forth on Armie’s finger, he put his hand on his dick and stroked it. He was gently moaning, and holding his breath, using all his muscles to intensify the feeling. Armie was watching his hand intently, he was watching the change in the shape, colour and texture of Timothy’s cock.

‘Let me suck it.’

He turned Timothy, slid down the bed and gently took Timothy’s hardening cock into his mouth, hummed and made a noise of contentment as he took it further in, softening his mouth, tasting and savouring Timothy’s flavour, it felt like he had come home, he loved how Timothy tasted, how his pre-come ran into his throat, he sucked harder, pushed the tongue in the slit, pressed against it, Timothy pulled away from him, he pursed his mouth and held on tight.

Pleasurable or not, his back was going to hurt the next day, he wasn’t as lithe as he had been.

Timothy felt the beginning of his orgasm.

‘Wait…wait…if you carry on…shit…oh Armie…’

Armie pulled off and placed two fingers inside him, recommenced the massage, the dick was jumping. He laughed.

‘Is that good…do you want me to suck it again?’

Timothy held onto his arm, he didn’t know what he wanted.

The fingers were removed, more lube.

‘I’m gonna fuck you now, get on your back, I want to see you come.’

It took a little while for Armie to get into his rhythm, reaching that almost certain feeling and sexual pleasure took a little longer than they had previously known but everything was more satisfying, sensations were all the more intense for the waiting, they both felt it, all they had been through was worth it to have this ultimate closeness. The familiar, longed for feeling of holding someone very dear completed their current happiness.

Armie groaned very loudly when he came, face flushed, eyes closed, mouth forming a large ‘O’, past caring about Timothy’s orgasm, resting on Timothy until he came to; like their first time, things had got away from him. Timothy was older, he needed and wanted a bit more help to get him his orgasm, he couldn’t come unhanded now, but he didn’t, couldn’t mind, Armie was in his arms and satisfied, there would be plenty of other times for him to get what he also needed. Armie dreamily grumbled something.

‘Unfortunately, I think that is your lot until tomorrow.’

Armie rolled off him, kissed him softly on his mouth, and was asleep in minutes.

Timothy finished himself off, turned to the packet of wipes, extracted some, wiped them both, drowsy Armie obliged by opening his legs, kissed him on the cheek and muttered thanks. Timothy threw the soiled wipes in the bin, turned off all the lights and then got back into bed. Armie was already snoring.

‘I don’t mind Armie…I’ll have you anyway I can…We have plenty of time, if you’ll stay. Know that you are all I ever want for however long I have you…’

**Author's Note:**

> The relationships that Catholic priests enter are obviously fraught with some kind of danger, they are celibate and they live in poverty. That is what they promise when they are ordained. And it is difficult personally especially when the desire has been awoken or cannot be controlled. Different approaches are taken regarding the existence of relationships, the church elders can choose excommunication, support through therapy and counselling or to turn a blind eye depending on the circumstances. Some of the evidence is anecdotal, what is not anecdotal is the fact that there continues to be scandals or the discovery of abuse, there is no abuse in this story, it is the story of two grown men who are unable to deny that they love each other.
> 
> Here's a BBC Radio 4 programme on the children of priests and priests who fall in love - 31st March 2020  
Hidden Children of the Church  
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m000gtnw
> 
> This is FICTION.


End file.
